


Bet ya

by legolastariel



Series: Dad and Da'y [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A little angst, M/M, a little fluff, definitely more humor this time (I hope), happy ending guaranteed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8020729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolastariel/pseuds/legolastariel
Summary: -- Sequel to NOWHERE MAN --Can totally be read alone, but to read NOWHERE MAN first is advisable.   Life was good. Despite the fact that the world had gone to hell and the dead were walking, life was good. Three years after they have taken their relationship that step further and moved into their small, cozy house together, Rick and Daryl and their kids are still a happy, little family.Things could actually be perfect for once, despite the world they lived in. But Daryl has made a fatal mistake. One he will regret, simply because he ignored one of the golden rules of parenthood: "Never, never make a bet with your teenage son".   After countless "Oh, poor Daryl" comments to my previous stories, I thought, the guy needed a break, so I tried to write something funny for once. Don't know, if that worked out, but I got a hunch that I will be getting more "Oh, poor Daryl" comments nevertheless. :-) But, as usual, happy ending guaranteed. Sorry, you know the pattern - English is not my first language and I don't have a beta, so be prepared for typos and unusual usage of this wonderful language.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ems4179](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ems4179/gifts).



Bet ya  


 

Life was good. Despite the fact that the world had gone to hell and the dead were  walking, life was good. 

Daryl leaned back into the comfortable rocking chair on the front porch of his and Rick’s house and deeply inhaled the smoke of his first, and probably only, cigarette that day. As long as he hadn’t run out of those, life was definitely good. 

They had food, the walls of Alexandria still stood strong and for the first time in his life, he had a home and a real family – Rick, Carl and Judith.  _Rick_ … Some days Daryl still could barely believe that he was this lucky. He, who’d been alone all of his life, had someone now, who truly loved him. No, life wasn’t just good, it was perfect.   
If he’d had a cool beer now, it would have been hard-to-bear-perfect.  

          _“You’ve come far”_ , Carol had told him once.

Back then, he hadn’t understood just what she was aiming at. And if he had, he wouldn’t have agreed.   
To become part of  _the group_ and  _earn his place_ , was hardly coming far. It had been a necessity, nothing he really  chose to do. He had just realized back then that to be a loner in this changed, hostile new world meant  _dying_ alone, too. Sooner or later. And from the looks of things, probably sooner. He hadn’t come far – he had come  _somewhere_ at all. 

Three years ago, when they had first arrived at the gate of Alexandria, he wouldn’t have dreamed that  _somewhere_ could possibly be  _this_ place.   
He had hated Alexandria with a vengeance. This town full of way too many people, surrounded by a wall that, unlike the fences of the prison, blocked the view to the world outside – to the woods, to freedom, to a place he could breathe freely.   
He had felt caged in, the number and closeness of these people along with their white-picket-fence attitude choking him, the wall apparently moving in on him a little more each passing day.   
Countless times back then he had wanted to pack and run. Countless times he had been out there in his beloved woods, that despite the dangers had felt more like  _home_ than Alexandria had, thinking about not going back.   
But he had. Each and every time. Because the moment he had turned his back on Alexandria, he had turned his back on Rick – the one thing, he was unable and unwilling to do.   
It wasn’t the wall or the food or the safety that had kept him here. It was a pair of beautiful blue eyes and a mesmerizing smile.  
He had figured it was better to live his life dreaming of this man, while he was still by his side, than dreaming of him out there all alone, never seeing him again. 

The one possibility his dreams had never included was, that Rick was dreaming of him all the same. That Rick’s greatest fear was for Daryl to leave or not come back from one of his hunting trips; to be left behind in this paradise without the one person, he had wanted to share it with. 

As if it had only been yesterday, Daryl still remembered how Rick had lured him to this house under the pretence of having to check empty buildings out for Deanna, to see if they were suitable for new residents.   
It had been a mess back then. The paint chipping off, the shutters barely attached any longer, flyscreens full of holes and the garden an overgrown jungle. Daryl had loved it on first sight.   
He had always felt uncomfortable in the fancy mansion their group had been staying in, with the marble, stainless steel and expensive furniture. It had looked like a model home to him and he barely dared touch anything or sit down on the classy white sofa. The place he had grown up in hadn’t had elegant and expensive things and he didn’t have the upbringing to behave properly in a surrounding like that. At least, that’s how he had felt. That’s how people had _made_ him feel all his life.   
But that shabby, small house Rick had taken him to back then – that was perfect in all its imperfection. _“This is … you”_ , Rick had said to him back then. Not because it was shabby, but because to Rick Daryl was just that, too. Perfect in all his imperfection. 

He  _had_ come far. Maybe Carol was even right. And he had walked the way together with Rick by his side.   
The day back then, he hadn’t just finally gotten a house that suited him, a home he felt  _at home_ in, but most importantly a  _reason_ to stay. It hadn’t been the size or condition the house had been in, that had made it the most beautiful place in town – it was the four white mugs Rick had placed in the kitchen cabinets that ran  _Daryl, Rick, Carl_ and  _Li’l Asskicker_.   
A house was just a house. What made it a  _home_ was people you love and who love you right back. And Rick’s kiss back then was the promise that he’d be one of them for as long as Daryl wanted him.

__

Three years, almost to the day. Three years of living in this town, this house, together with Rick and his …  _their_ children. Three years in which he had laughed more often and had gotten more love than the entire forty years before. Some days the mere fact that he was happy, simple as that,  _happy_ , scared him. Not because the dead were still walking and the living were still just as much of a threat. He could handle them both – the dead and the living scum. The way he grew up was a hard school and he had mastered his surviving skills at an early age. Putting down the dead was in a day’s work now, living scum he had grown up with.   
What he dreaded more than anything was waking up. Waking up and realizing that the past three years had just been a dream, that he was alone, that there was no home and family and Rick did not love him.   
Neither the dead, nor the living had been able to kill him so far – this would. 

Judith’s giggles from inside pulled Daryl out of his dark thoughts and brought a smile to his face. If this was just a dream, he would make sure to never wake up.

He heard Rick’s voice, playfully calling out to the little girl that she could run and she could hide, but that he was going to catch her and tickle her mercilessly. 

        “You never gonna catch me, daddy”, she challenged him and then Daryl heard small feet quickly pattering around the dining table, followed by larger and heavier feet in fierce pursuit. 

A chair tipped over and hit the floor, audibly even out on the porch.

        “Oh man, you and yer bowlegs, Grimes”, Daryl muttered to himself, while his smile turned into a grin. 

He didn’t just love Rick’s eyes and his smile. He loved his curls. He loved his voice. He loved his long, elegant fingers and the gentleness of his hands. He loved his soft lips and the perfectly shaped, slim body. And not least of all his bowlegs that looked downright adorable when Rick walked and that fit around Daryl just perfectly, when it was the younger man’s turn to bottom while they made love. He just loved  Rick. 

They had turned the shabby little house into a gem together those past years.   
Their first night together as a couple back then, when they had sat side by side out on the porch, Daryl had sworn to help build the new world that Rick had promised Carl. And he had.  
First thing the next morning, after Rick had slept peacefully in his arms, undisturbed by nightmares or  _people_ , who wanted his advice or decisions as usual, Daryl had searched the entire town for every pot of paint he could get his hands on. No matter how old or which color they were.   
The building of the new world had started in Judith’s nursery and Daryl had spent hours in her room creating a very special kind of Dixonian masterpiece.   
When Carol had first seen it, she was strangely reminded of Daryl’s comment on the painting they had come across the other day, that looked as though  _“A dog sat in paint and wiped its ass all over the place”_. She never dared ask him, how  _he_ created whatever she was seeing there, but it sure looked as though the archer hadn’t been stingy with effort, enthusiasm and paint.  
Other people may have thought about painting rainbows, unicorns, fairies, flowers …  _“No, not flowers. Definitely not flowers”_ ,  she had corrected herself quickly … but  _other people_ were not Daryl Dixon.   
Truth to be told, the creation looked as though those pots of paint had simply exploded, which led Carol to the assumption that the archer went about painting rooms the way he went about squishing walker heads, but it was colorful, it was unique, it sure was something else and Judith had loved it. So everybody else had loved it as well. They had all of them however made a mental note to never let Daryl do any paint work in  _their_ homes, but they absolutely adored the effort he had put into bringing a smile to the little girl’s face. And the smile was still there. Judith loved her room to this very day. 

Only last week Daryl had asked her, if she wanted something new, now that she was a big girl.

        “Like what?” Judith had asked him with wide blue eyes. 

        “Dunno. Unicorns or fairies?” 

He had cringed at that thought, but Carol said, all little girls liked  _them unicorns and fairies crap_ . As long as they didn’t have to be pink, too, he may have been able to do the painting without getting nauseous.   
Judith had crinkled her little snub nose.

        “What’s that? Are they yummy?!”

At first Dary had just looked at her stunned, then he had broken out laughing. What did he expect? How was Judith supposed to know about girly stuff like  _that_ in a world like  _this_ ?

        “Dunno”, he had answered, composing himself before she thought he was laughing about her reply. “Tell ya what, next time I go huntin’, I try ta shoot some. And if ya like ‘em, we’ll paint them. ‘kay? Till then, ya wanna keep yer room like that a li’l longer?” 

She had wrapped her arms around his neck and given him a hug.

        “Yup. I love my room like that, da’y.” 

 

Another smile spread over Daryl’s face on remembering that exchange. He took another deep drag from his cigarette and looked up into the clear, strikingly blue sky.   
_“Just like Rick’s eyes”_ ,  he couldn’t help thinking.   
He always thought that, when looking up into the sky on a sunny day like this. It was soothing. No matter where he was, as long as he could see the sky, Rick’s eyes were right there, watching over him. 

        “Da’y”, he muttered to himself.

Judith’s first word. It was sad somehow, for the first word of most children was “mommy”, but he couldn’t even recall if Jude had ever used that word at all yet. There was no one in her life she could call mommy and there never would be. Hopefully.   
Daryl had never allowed that train of thought to go beyond this point.   
He couldn’t see him and Rick ever going separate ways by choice, so the only way for Judith to ever have a mommy, was when he, Daryl, was dead and Rick chose to find someone new to share his life.   
          _“Ain’t gonna happen, Grimes”_ , he fought the stinging sensation in his eyes stubbornly. _“Yer not gonna get rid of me ever again.”_   
A fool’s hope, of course, considering how things were out there now, but he totally intended to do all he could to keep his promise. Because he always did – keep his promises. And he had promised Rick to never leave him, to always be there for him.   
Sometimes he wondered, if it was okay for children to grow up without a mother. If perhaps something essential was missing from Judith’s and Carl’s life without the female influence.   
Then again – how could anyone in this town lack female influence as long as Carol was there? She was pretty much a mommy to everyone, including him.   
The stinging sensation dissolved and made room for another smile. He was  way over fucking forty years old, and still Carol had her mind set on teaching him manners and doing the job his own mother so perfectly failed at. He was a lost cause, Daryl was totally aware of that, but as long as Carol was there to be some kind  of a mom to Carl and Judith, the female role model they may need, the archer was more than thankful for that. Carol was absolutely able to get on each and every one of his nerves, but he loved her nevertheless. 

Daryl stretched his legs with a content sigh and exhaled the smoke into the warm air of the summer afternoon, when the screen door next to him squeaked and Carl stepped out onto the porch.

The boy had grown quite a lot during the past three years and was gangly as hell now. He looked out of proportion – his limbs were too long, as was his hair and other than that, he was too thin. He had clearly inherited Lori’s tall and slim build. But he had Rick’s eyes – Daryl refused to even think about the fact that the plural didn’t apply anymore – and Rick’s nose, his lips and the same strength and determination.   
          _“Pity, Rick couldn’t pass on them curls and bowlegs as well”_ , Daryl couldn’t help thinking.   
The archer had wondered a few times, if Rick ever tried to figure out whether or not he was Judith’s biological father or not. Lori and Shane both had brown eyes, Judy’s were blue. Which was no proof at all, for details like that could skip a generation, Carol had explained to him once, uncalled for, but Daryl couldn’t have cared less.   
Things like these, were they even still important at all?   
Maggie, despite being a mother to little Hershel now, had adopted Enid quite a while ago unceremoniously. One day the girl had just moved in with her and Glenn and their baby-son, simply because she was an orphan and needed a family. And Maggie had taken a shine to her early on, which was mutual. So this was a reasonable and logical solution – no, it was an _emotional_ solution.   
This world was not about reason or logic anymore, it was about emotions. Heart over mind. The only way to survive these days. This was how people found each other and stayed together regardless of background, race, religion or gender. All that had become meaningless the day the old world had ended, so Rick probably never gave it any thought, whether Judith really was his daughter or not. It wasn’t important. It didn’t change the fact that he loved her like every father should love his daughter.   
Which was precisely why Daryl had hugged the little girl tight countless times, thinking to himself with a smile:

          _“Claimed. Ya was ma li’l asskicker first and ya’ll always be.”_

        “Hey.” 

Daryl’s attention was drawn to the teenage boy, who greeted him nonchalantly, before dropping into the twin of Daryl’s rocking chair. 

        “Hey yerself”, the archer replied, casting a look at his son and making a mental note, not for the first time, to do some workout with the kid, so he would build up some muscles in those arms. 

Carl returned the glance, before he pointed casually at Daryl’s cigarette.

        “Can I have one?”

The archer took another deep drag, before he turned his head with a meaningful look in his shadow blue eyes.

        “Sure. – The day hell freezes over.” 

 

        “Guess people wouldn’t want slurpees down there anymore then, huh?” Carl teased with a suppressed smirk.

A frown appeared on Daryl’s face.   
On any other day, Carl would have sulked, started a discussion, delivered any kind of typical teenager reaction. So this smirk right now was rather suspicious and had alarm bells go off in the back of Daryl’s mind. Something was going on here.

Before he had a chance to say anything though, footsteps down in the street caught his attention and distracted him enough to not even notice how the poorly hidden smirk on Carl’s face turned into a wide grin.   
The next second a happily smiling Carol came into sight, waving to them. Carl mirrored the gesture a little too enthusiastically, while all color seemed to simply drop off Daryl’s face. 

        “No”, he breathed in a raspy voice. 

The woman came up the short way leading to the porch, where Carl was sitting on the edge of his chair, looking at her expectantly with a mischievous sparkle in his eye, while Daryl seemed to sag a little further with each step she took.   
Before she had a chance to comment on that, he called over to her:  
         
        “Ya best leave right away. We’re all sick here.”

She knitted her brow, replying: 

        “You don’t look sick to me. And Judy was in the playground only an hour ago. What do you got?”

        “Jitters”, Carl muttered to Daryl, which earned him a scowl. 

        “Dunno. Came quite sudden. Just go. Be seein’ ya.”

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, which had Carol’s frown even increase.

        “Well, if you feel better later, why don’t you come over for some …”

        “No!” 

Daryl sat bolt upright the next second, which had her take a startled step back. Before the archer could even say anymore, Carl had jumped to his feet, wrapped one arm around his neck from behind, almost choking him, while he covered his mouth with the other hand.   

        “Ya was gonna say?” he said to Carol, grinning like an idiot.

Her eyes grew large, as she watched the teenager hold on to Daryl as tightly as he could without actually choking him, while the archer tried to bite the hand that was covering his mouth and struggle out of Carl’s grasp. Simultaneously he was violently shaking his head ‘No’ to her. 

        “What the …” she started, when Carl just shrugged his shoulders.

        “Ain’t nothin’. He’s just … never mind. Ya was gonna invite us to …”

        “Were”, she corrected, arching her eyebrows. Only three years with Daryl and Carl had started to talk more Dixonish than English, whenever he was around him. 

        “What?” It was Carl’s turn to arch an eyebrow now.

The next moment he yelped, when Daryl’s teeth connected painfully with his index finger. 

        “I’m gonna send Denise over”, Carol commented dryly. “Obviously a couple of people here have a sunstroke or something.” 

She turned around to leave, Daryl’s relieved sigh behind her back audible, when she reconsidered and turned once more. 

        “I’ve got casserole, if you …”

        “Yes!!!!” 

Carl let go of Daryl and started to perform a wild and entirely silly looking dance on the porch.   
“She said it! She said it! Ya lost, man!” He jumped down the few steps of the porch and embraced the woman enthusiastically. “Thanks. I knew, ya was gonna say that.”

        “Were!” 

Carol couldn’t help sighing. She still loved Daryl, differently these days than back when she’d first met him, but no less. And he was a wonderful father, but she couldn’t help wishing his influence on Rick’s …  _their_ children wouldn’t exceed tracking, hunting or shooting the crossbow lessons. Grammar and table manners were clearly not his field of expertise.   
A fact she had observed just the other day, when little Judith had sat at her kitchen table, spaghetti hanging out of her mouth and into her face, before she had sucked them in with a loud slurping sound, tomato sauce splashing all over the place, only to  top things off by wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her dress and giving a loud, content belch.   
Carol vividly remembered her initial thought back then:

          _“Sweetheart, you’re neither a Grimes, nor a Walsh – you’re a Dixon.”_

Curiously, that thought had made her feel warm and comfortable the same moment and had a genuine smile tug at the corners of her mouth.  

Something she wasn’t able to say about the current situation. 

        “What  _is_ going on here?”

She grabbed Carl’s shoulders and could barely refrain from shaking him, before she had her indignant glance move back and forth between the boy and Daryl, waiting for an answer.

        “We made a bet”, Carl explained with a grin. “And Daryl lost.”

        “’Twas unfair ta begin with”, the archer cut in. “I was drunk, when we made it.”

Carol raised an eyebrow.

        “Then it’s well deserved that you lost it.” 

        “Yes, mom”, Daryl shot back.. 

She ignored him and turned to Carl once more.

        “What’s the bet?”

        “I bet, ya was …”

          _“Were”_ , she sighed inwardly.

        “… gonna say either  casserole  or  cookie next time ya stopped by. Ya say that a lot, ya know.”

With wide eyes she looked over to Daryl and saw him nod with a shrug.

        “Kid’s right.”

        “Why did you bet against it then, if you agree?”

        “’cause I ‘s  _drunk_ .”

She pulled a face, then focused on Carl once again.

        “Fine, so now that Daryl lost, what  _is_ the bet?” 

The boy’s mischievous grin widened and he giggled like Judith usually did. When he didn’t answer right away, Carol cast a look at Daryl, who sat with his face hidden in his hands now, as though he was dreading his son’s answer.   
It dawned on her that this was some kind of sibling contest and a smile tugged at her lips.   
Only two weeks ago, Daryl had lost a bet against Judith. Being too certain never to lose any bet or game against a five-year-old, he accepted too soon to do whatever she wanted in case he lost. The entire town still spoke (and laughed) a lot about the outcome. 

        “Ya lost, da’y”, little Judy had announced in the middle of the playground, when in fact she had been able to spit her cherry pit further than he did. “Now ya gonna play a round of hopscotch with me. Right  _here_.” 

Everybody thought it was nothing short of endearing that Judith still called Daryl  _da’y_ to this very day. Nobody had never been able to tell for sure, whether that had meant  _Daryl_ or  _daddy_ , when she had been that little two-year-old toddler, and Rick had settled this by saying, it wouldn’t matter. To Judith, it was one and the same anyway.   
So Daryl had remained  _da’y_ to her, which was only fair, because he still called her  _Li’l Asskicker_ . She never objected to that. Yet. But it was commonly assumed, that she would  _always_ be  _Li’l Asskicker_ to him – it would probably read on her headstone one far day, and on her wedding invitations. Imagining to receive a card one day that read  _Whatshisface & Li’l Asskicker _ had a grin spread over Carol’s face. Just like she was dying to see Daryl walk Judith down the aisle to give her away.  _She_ would place a bet that he wouldn’t even part with his crossbow that day and that there would be squirrel on the menu for sure. 

That day two weeks ago,  _da’y_ probably was the only one totally convinced that this was  _not_ his cute, innocent little daughter, but some evil kind of goblin. Hopscotch.  _Him._ Right there in the middle of the town.  
Daryl had been so proud, when half a year after he and Rick had set their mind on building the new world together, the playground had been completed. It had started with a sandpit, swings and a slide. Meanwhile they’d been able to add monkey bars and a public BBQ ground. None of the adults or teenagers would forget for one single day what the world was like outside of Alexandria’s walls, but childhood was short and the cruel reality would catch up to their children early enough. If they had but one single day of fun and carefreeness due to this playground, it had been worth the effort.   
Not in his wildest dreams, Daryl had ever imagined, that he had created a torture chamber there. Sort of.  _Hopscotch._

A lot of people still thought Daryl Dixon was afraid of nothing. He had said it loud and clear often enough and for a while, he may have been able to even fool himself. Then again – maybe it had been true. Once. When he had nothing to prove and nothing to lose. Before Rick.   
But as soon as there is just one single person you love, you  _are_ afraid. Especially in times like these. Losing Rick, and Carl and Judith, was the one thing that scared Daryl to the core. He tried not to think about it, but the fear was always there, deep down inside.   
That day on the playground he had learned, that he was afraid of more than just that. Another thing he feared was  _hopscotch_ in front of  _everybody._ As soon as Judith had voiced her demands on winning the bet, word had spread like wildfire through the entire town and within ten minutes a crowd had gathered around the playground. Rumor had it, even the sentries on duty had used their binoculars to look the wrong way that day.   
It had been a nightmare come true for Daryl. He hated crowds and he hated to be the center of attention, especially when he was going to make an entire fool of himself, which he had desperately tried to avoid all of his life. But how do you get out of a situation like that with dignity and pride? How was anyone supposed to walk away from their five-year-old daughter with their head held high, after just breaking a promise in front of  _everybody._ They may call him lots of things, because they still didn’t know him any better – and some of these things may even be justified – but no one would ever call him a coward by rights, or a liar, or a word breaking poor excuse for a father. 

        “Fine”, he had said to Judith in the end, “ya won. So hopscotch it is. And ya can even start.” 

He would never forget how her face had lit up and she had given him a tight hug, before she had quickly picked up one of the crayons Glenn had brought back from a run just recently and had eagerly drawn the hopscotch field, a wide smile on her rosy cheeks all the while. With a smirk Abraham had tossed Daryl a stone, which the archer had caught with a curt nod, displaying his usual deadpan. He wasn’t going to show these people that he would have preferred for the ground to just open up and swallow him alive.   
Even while Judith was still playing her first round, the assembled crowd had made a couple of bets of their own. Some betting that Daryl wasn’t going to see this through after all. Others said, he was gonna hop like once or twice and then call it quits. Others placed a bet on how long it would take him to lose his temper and yell at them to get the fuck out of there and leave him alone.   
They lost, all of them. Daryl saw the game through till the very end. Ten rounds each and he not only totally blinded out the crowd, but even smiled for the little girl, who was having the time of her life.   
Even a week later his ears still had a tinge of red, but people had stopped laughing quite a while ago. He had earned the respect and appreciation of the entire town that day – something he couldn’t have cared less about. But he had also earned an incredible amount of love from a little girl, while her eyes had been bright with joy. _That_ , by all means, was even worth going through the worst humiliation of his lifetime. 


	2. Chapter 2

He had earned the respect and appreciation of the entire town that day – something he couldn’t have cared less about. But he had also earned an incredible amount of love from a little girl, while her eyes had been bright with joy. _That_ , by all means, was even worth going through the worst humiliation of his lifetime.

 

An experience though, he didn’t care to repeat. Especially since things were different now. Judith was too young to understand just what she had been asking. She didn’t know, that playing a harmless game like hopscotch would be downright embarrassing for her _da’y_. To humiliate him and make him the laughing stock of the town had never been her intention.

It was obviously Carl’s though, when he pointed to a spot next to the steps and Carol’s eyes came to rest on four pairs of inline skates. She gasped, which had Daryl look up and follow her gaze. He grew pale as a sheet. 

“No fucking way in hell, man.” 

“Ya promised”, Carl complained instantly.

“I lied”, Daryl answered matter-of-factly.

“Ya ain’t gettin’ outta this one. Ya never lie and ya never break no promise, and if ya does now, I’m gonna tell Jude.”

Carol saw Daryl flinch and despite somehow finding this thing with the lost bet entertaining, she felt a tinge of anger rise inside of her. The teenager was clearly out of line here, but she knew that Daryl didn’t appreciate her coming to his defenses or trying to protect him. He had never been in need for someone to hover over him like she used to do. All he had ever needed was someone, who respected him and saw an equal in him, loved him just the way he was. And he had found that someone. So she kept quiet. 

“’s between you and me, Carl. Leave Jude outta this. And for Christ’s sake, gimme a break. Pick somethin’ else, will ya?” 

“Nope.” Carl was enjoying himself immensely. 

“Ya wanna fucking kill me, right?”

The teenager couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

“Jeez, Daryl, how old are ya? Jude can do it.”

“Skill ain’t a matter of age. Look at yer dad – he’s in his forties and still can’t track for shit. I could when I’s a li’l older than Li’l Asskicker.”

Carl waved the comment off.

“He’s a bad example. He’ll never learn how ta track or be quiet during huntin’. He can’t walk silently. It’s ‘cause of them bowlegs.”

Daryl’s mouth gaped open and just for a split second he considered smacking Carl up the side of his head for a disrespectful comment about his father like that.  
The moment that impulse flashed through his mind, he cringed and grabbed the armrests of his chair, knuckles white. Never, this he had sworn to himself, never, no matter what, would he lay hand on his children. Not even a slap or a smack up the head, although that didn’t even hurt.  
It didn’t have to hurt physically to still hurt inside. Because it mortified them, made them feel worthless and unloved for just that second. Which was exactly one second too much. If anybody knew, it was him. 

Carol’s giggle distracted him and had him send her a chiding glare.

“Yer laughing about ma man there?“ 

Carl was right, he thought secretly, but that didn’t give him the right to make fun of Rick behind his back. He could tell him that to his face for all Daryl cared, if he was willing to take the consequences. Which would probably have been laundry duty for a month. Same went for Carol. She had always been quick to talk or laugh about Rick behind his back, something Daryl had never appreciated. She should know that by now. 

“Sorry”, she said, composing herself. “I shouldn’t …”

“Yeah, ya shouldn’t.” He turned to Carl. “And you best not talk about yer ol’ man that way, understood?”

“But I’m _right_.”

“I _know_ , still – anybody here got the right ta make fun of him, ‘s me. Got it?”  
He didn’t give the other two time to figure out, if he was making fun or not.  
“Now, cut the crap and be serious. Whadda ya want for winning that bet?”

Again, Carl rolled his eyes.

“Nice try, Daryl, but I mean it – them skates it is.”

Determinedly Daryl got up, walked to the screen door and yelled into the house:  
“Rick!!”

There were footsteps inside, approaching the porch and a moment later Rick appeared in the doorway with Judith in his tow. He cast a smile in Carol’s direction on seeing her, but before he could even voice a word of greeting, Daryl growled:

“I want a divorce, man.” 

The smile seemed to simply drop off the younger man’s face as he looked at his partner with plain shock on his face.

“What? Why … Wait, we’re not even married.”

“Ya bet we ain’t, ‘cause I want a fucking divorce.”

Rick grew pale and made a soothing gesture to the agitated archer.

“Can we talk about this inside and not in front of the kids and Carol?”

“I don’t care. Everybody can fucking hear this.”

Anger was flaring up in Rick’s eyes.

“What _is_ the matter? What did I do?”

“Ya created a monster!” Daryl made a sweeping gesture in Carl’s direction. 

The next second the teenager as well as Carol broke out laughing and had Rick cast a confused glance from one to the other. 

“What the heck is going on here?”

Carl composed himself enough in between two chuckles to reply:

“He lost a bet again. To me this time.”

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of Rick’s mouth, when he cast his lover a side glance that was in between amusement and pity.

“How did that happen?”

“Not ma fault.” Daryl sounded not a day older than Judith in that moment. 

“Yeah?” Rick took a step closer to him. “Who’s fault is it?”

“Some asshole named Jack Daniel’s. Don’t send Glenn on runs anymore. He’s just bringing home trouble. Or tell ‘m to find Eugene some of ‘em blasted sorghum already. He’s been bugging me about that crap for three years straight now, man.”

Rick suppressed a chuckle.

“So you had to get some support from Jack there.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Do you have to play hopscotch again?” 

Judith clapped her hands excitedly behind her dad’s back and looked over to her brother with big eyes.

“Oh yes. You should do that, Carl. That was fun. And you’re even gonna win – da’y’s feet are too big, so he keeps stepping on the lines.”

“If _someone_ had made ‘em squares larger than a match-box, da’y’s big feet may have had a chance”, Daryl tossed in. 

Before Judith could go about defending herself against the accusation of playing unfair, Carl winked at her and said:

“Nah, this time we gonna teach da’y how to skate on those inliners Glenn got us.”

“Glenn’s a dead man”, Daryl muttered to himself, but Rick heard him nevertheless. 

His features derailed visibly, while he tried not to rub it in by laughing. He placed one arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder and gave them an encouraging squeeze.

“Come on, Daryl. That’s gonna be fun.”

“Yeah, as much as hittin’ yer thumb with a hammer.” 

Before Rick was able to reply, the sound of approaching footsteps drew the attention of the little group down to the street once more.  
In any other street in town, people passing by was a thing that happened all day long, but this was a cul-de-sac and their house was the last in the row. No one ever came here, which was one of the reasons Daryl had loved it on first sight. More than one uninvited visitor was a thing unheard of, which had the archer’s features darken.  
The next moment Tara and Denise appeared in front of the house and cast a wide smile at the little assembly. 

“Someone put up a sign that we was handing out beer for free here or somethin’?” Daryl grumbled. 

“No”, Tara answered with a poorly hidden smirk, “Carl mentioned a new bet between him and you that included Carol. And we just saw her headed this way, so we just wanted to check on the outcome.” 

Rick cocked his head and cast his son an indignant glance.

“You did _what_?”

Before the teenager could even defend himself, more footsteps approached as Abraham, Sasha, Eugene and Rosita made for the Grimes-Dixon residence.  
Rick’s eyes turned as cold as glacier ice when he saw Daryl actually grow pale.  
It was one thing to take advantage of a drunken man and get him to make a silly bet, but to tell half of the town about it with the intent to humiliate the poor loser, was intolerable. Especially when that person was Carl’s … was Daryl.  
Rick still hadn’t figured out what exactly Daryl was to Carl. While Judith had always seen a second dad in the archer and had never questioned the fact that she was the only child in town with two fathers, but no mom, Carl still called Daryl by his first name to this day. He never said ‘dad’ or ‘pa’ or anything of that kind. ‘Dad’ was Rick, no one else apparently.  
About a year back Rick had questioned him about that, once. Asked him, if he had a problem with the fact that Rick was living with a man, that he had fallen in love with his best friend and that Daryl was like a second father to Judith. Delicate questions to ask a teenager and if he had expected a detailed reply, he had definitely deluded himself. 

_“I told you before, dad, you and Daryl – that’s cool. Fine with me.”_

_“But you cannot see another father in him, like Judy, can you?”_

_“You’re my dad. Isn’t that enough?”_

_“Judith thinks differently about that.”_

_“She doesn’t know it any other way. Her being in this world, that’s thanks to Daryl.”_

Rick had had to swallow hard against a lump in his throat then. Carl’s words had not only woken painful memories of how he hadn’t been there for his baby daughter – or his son for that matter – when she was just born. There had also been the unspoken reminder that he, Rick, may in fact have nothing to do with Judith Grimes being part of this world. Daryl may not be the reason she came to existence, but it was undoubtedly thanks to him that she remained there. In a way, he may in fact be more of a father to Judith than Rick ever was.  
Rick would be lying, if it hadn’t touched him that Carl considered only him to be his father and no one else, but it pained him just the same. Yet whatever it was the boy saw in Daryl – a friend, a big brother, just someone who happened to live with them – he owed him. And the least Daryl deserved was respect. This right now, had little to do with it. 

“Carl Grimes!” Rick took a few steps closer to his son. “You told the entire group about this bet?”

“No”, Carl waved the comment off, “I told the entire _town_ about it.” 

Rick’s eyes narrowed.

“That does it. You are grounded right now. No, wait, you’d just be sitting in your room reading comics. You’re up for watchtower sentry the next two weeks. Period.” 

“Rick …”

Daryl’s voice behind him had the younger man turn around to the porch, where the archer was standing with a meaningful air, shaking his head ‘no’ in that hardly noticeable gesture. 

“Sorry, that’s final”, Rick concluded, not seeing another smirk appear on his son’s face.

“Oh, man, Grimes.” Daryl rolled his eyes. “C’mere. I want a word with ya.” 

Rick furrowed his brow and walked up to Daryl, who pulled him to the side.

“Have ya even paid any attention to that kid lately? He ain’t twelve anymore, Rick. And he ain’t reading comics no more, either.”

Total incomprehension was written all over Rick’s face, making Daryl all of a sudden crave for another smoke.

“Remember back at the prison when Glenn and Maggie volunteered for lots of watchtower sentry?” 

Slowly, ever so slowly a hunch as to where this was headed dawned in the younger man and his eyes widened.

“Carl’s been doing quite a lot of _watchtower sentry_ with Enid these past three months and I doubt, they was reading comics. And ya twerp just assigned him there as a _punishment_. Way to go, Grimes.” 

Rick just stood there with his mouth gaped open. 

“Sure hope ya had _that_ talk with him”, Daryl continued mercilessly, “’cause I sure as hell ain’t gonna go on runs for formula and diapers ever again.” 

He gave Rick a slap to the shoulder and then just left the stunned father standing there, looking like a drowned rat. When did Carl dare grow up on him? 

“Carl Grimes!” 

Rick didn’t even notice that he sounded like a broken record, when he turned on his heels, totally understanding all of a sudden why Daryl had made friends with Jack Daniel’s the other day. Sometimes life just required acquaintances like that.  
Carl knew that look and he knew the inflection, and Rick may have been surprised – and even less amused than he already was – if he’d known that Carl wouldn’t have minded a visit from Jack Daniel’s himself just now.

“Dad, save it, okay? Not now.” The smirk made a reappearance. “I got some inline skating to do.” 

By now, it was pretty busy down in the street. Maggie, Glenn and their son Hershel had joined the rest of their group, accompanied by Enid, Aaron and Eric. It looked as though they all felt pretty much inclined to bring out the camping chairs and coolers for this new fun event, and things were totally topped off, when Gabriel showed up to go about blessing the skates. He couldn’t be serious, could he? _They_ couldn’t be serious! 

Daryl, who had stopped dead in his tracks on top of the steps on seeing this commotion, turned around to Rick with a killer scowl.

“This is _yer_ kid, man” he growled to his boyfriend, “so _yer_ responsible for this shit.”

Rick raised his hands defensively. 

“He’s _our_ kid, Daryl.”

“No. Oh no. The other one – the _sweet_ one – that’s _ours_. But _he_ ’s a Grimes, no doubt about it. And _yer_ gonna pay for this.”

The younger man’s eyes grew large.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“ _Parents are responsible for their children_ , man. So yer gonna get punished.” He drew closer, until his face was right in front of Rick’s, his breath hot on the other man’s skin. “Yer so gonna pay. – Tonight. Upstairs.” 

He hooked one thumb into Rick’s waistband and pulled him closer with a jerk, till not even a sheet of paper would have fit in between of them. Two sets of blue eyes locked firmly and while Daryl was displaying his perfected deadpan, a grin tugged at the corners of Rick’s mouth.

“Guess, I best take full responsibility, huh?” 

“Ya bet.”

The grin was visible on Rick’s face now.

“I don’t bet. That’s your field of expertise.” 

Something seemed to spark up in the archer’s eyes.

“Keep it up, Grimes. Just keep it up.” 

He took a step back and poked his index finger into Rick’s chest, when the younger man got a hold of his hand and pulled him close again, kissing him ardently.  
There were several whistles and cheers from the crowd down in the street, accompanied by the inevitable yell “Get a room”, which broke them apart almost instantly.  
Yet while Rick grinned from ear to ear, Daryl’s eyes had even narrowed, which time and again had the younger man wonder, if he was even still able to see anything when he did that.

“Yer suicidal today, ain’t ya?” 

Not even waiting for a reply, Daryl turned on his heels to give the mob a piece of his mind, while Rick fought hard to not put fuel to the flame by laughing out loud. 

“Hey!” Daryl yelled at the crowd, while he marched down the steps. “Show’s off! Get lost.”

“Whadda ya mean, the show’s off?” Carl cut in. “A bet is a bet, Daryl.”

Before the archer had even time to shoot back, a small hand tugged at his shirt, while little Judith was looking up at him with big eyes.

“See, da’y, I put my skates on already, so I can help you.”

It was dead silent all of a sudden, save for one or the other “Awwww”. Daryl’s anger evaporated in an instant and he couldn’t help a deep, resigning sigh. He knew when a battle was lost. He just never thought he would lose time and again to a five-year-old. Oddly enough, he didn’t even mind. 

“’kay”, he just said after a moment, expecting the assembled people to give some more cheering or whistling, but it stayed surprisingly quiet, save for a couple of whispers and chuckles. 

The next moment Rick appeared by his side, placing his hand gently on his shoulder and giving a reassuring squeeze. Daryl looked up with an expression that was impossible to read.

“’m gonna be the laughing stock of the entire fucking state of Georgia, man”, he said quietly to Rick, so the audience wouldn’t hear him.

Leave it to an eavesdropping teenager to make the best laid plan go awry. 

“No sweat. Yer just gonna be the laughing stock of the entire fucking state of Virginia. We ain’t in …”

Daryl glared daggers his way.

“ _Word_ is gonna get back ta Georgia. _All_ the way from here ta good ol’ Atlanta. The _walkers_ are gonna laugh at me.”

Carl rolled his eyes.

“Nice try, Daryl, but cut the crap already. Yer not _that_ important.”

“Yes, you are”, Rick whispered in the archer’s ear from the other side, which resulted in him being at the receiving end of yet another scowl.

“Thanks a lot, man, that makes me feel so much better.” 

Rick gave his shoulder a reassuring slap, before pulling back.

“Come on, Daryl, this town is perfect for skating. Well maintained pavement, no traffic, it’s safe …”

“Yeah”, a female voice muttered in the background, “except when Daryl leaves on his bike. Those days we got more roadkill in here than out there.”

There were a couple of giggles down in the crowd, which Daryl tried not to pay any attention to. He still didn’t move, still didn’t show the slightest inclination to put the skates on that sat on the ground next to Judith. So Rick added after a moment.

“We do it together, okay?”

“Ya been doing this before?”

“Yes, but …”

“I haven’t. ‘m gonna break every fucking bone in ma body.”

“Trust me, it’s not nearly as hard as it looks. I’ll teach you. That’s only fair. You’ve been trying to teach me how to hunt and shoot the crossbow …”

Unheard to them, another voice in the crowd muttered:  
“And he almost had more kills _inside_ these walls than out there. Deanna should put warning signs up for these guys.” 

“ _Try_ ‘s the keyword here”, Daryl said in that moment. “Yer as good at teaching stuff as yer at learning ‘em, I’m as good as dead.” 

Another couple of giggles and suppressed laughter from the crowd had his expression even darken.

“Can ya remove them stalkers around here? Hate being watched like that.”

Rick started to feel sorry for his boyfriend. The archer’s discomfort was palpable.

“Whadda you want me to do? Arrest them? Look at the bright side – no one’s gonna put any pics of this on their Facebook account.”

There were multiple sighs throughout the group.

Tara: “God, I miss Facebook.”

Denise:“Tumblr”

Aaron: "Twitter"

Maggie:”Pinterest”

Carol: “Baking tutorials on YouTube.”

Eugene gave an approving nod to Carol’s comment, before he added: “Lifejournal.”

Rosita cast him a side glance, while her eyebrows rose to her hairline. Then she muttered to Sasha: “ _That_ I wanna see.” 

For a moment they were lost in their pleasant memories of the good old days of social media, before they became aware of Rick’s piercing stare. 

“Do you mind? I’m talking to Daryl here. Why’s everybody eavesdropping on me today?”

Tara shrugged and replied nonchalantly:  
“Maybe we’re all hoping you were gonna say something smart.”

“ _Her_ you can arrest now”, Eugene said matter-of-factly. “I would say this surely passes as insulting an official.”

For a second Tara considered cutting off Eugene’s ponytail for that remark, when Judith’s voice ended her train of thought.

“If you are too afraid to try, we can do this some other time, da’y.” 

Daryl’s head whipped around. It was one thing to try and writhe your way out of an unpleasant situation, it was something completely different to have your five-year-old daughter watch you do it and think, you were afraid. Unlike the rest of the people around him, Judith wasn’t making a teasing remark – Daryl saw genuine concern in her big blue eyes and felt his male ego kick him in the ass the same moment.  
Then again, maybe it wasn’t his male ego. There were moments Daryl thought Merle was haunting him from wherever he was now, keeping him on track in his very own special way and giving him one or the other kick in the teeth, whenever he thought necessary. And in Merle’s point of view, this would most certainly have called for a kick in the teeth. Daryl could almost hear the voice of his brother in the back of his mind:

_“First ya can’t hold yer liquor and lose a bet ta that sassy beanstalk there, and then ya start being a big Nelly in front of all ‘em douchebags, including the li’l princess? If ya gotta die with them wheels attached, Lightning McQueen, at least go down like a fucking Dixon.”_

With a determined air Daryl let himself drop to the ground next to Judith and reached for the skates.


	3. Chapter 3

With a determined air Daryl let himself drop to the ground next to Judith and reached for the skates.

_"Who wants to live forever?”_ he thought, before taking his shoes off and replacing them with the dreaded devices, while Judith was beaming at him. 

“Here goes.” That was Tara’s voice, followed by Eugene’s, going: “Did anyone bring some popcorn?” 

_“Keep calm”_ , Daryl berated himself, _“ya can’t kill them all.”_

He pushed himself off the ground forcefully, only to have his feet roll forward way faster than he had expected. With a violent thud he was back on his backside a second later, accompanied by various giggles. 

“Oh, this is gonna be better than I thought”, Carl muttered to himself.

“Good thing he’s practicing in here”, someone remarked in the background, “out there he’d be meals on wheels.” 

That triggered several chuckles, while Abraham pushed his way through the crowd. He wrapped his arms around Daryl from behind and lifted him up on his feet in one powerful jerk, not without pulling one or the other muscle though. Daryl may have been smaller than he was and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on that body, but those muscles sure weighed more than the redhead had expected. 

Daryl cast him a killer scowl. 

“Thanks”, he punched Abraham’s arm, almost losing his balance over this. “But don’t ever do that again.” 

“Ah, come on, ballerina girl”, Abraham teased, grinning to mask the pain in his back, “someone had to put you up on your feet.”

“Wanna keep standin’ on yers, Ronald McDonald?”

Abraham’s grin even widened.

“Looks to me like you’re in no position to make threats. If I breathe too heavy, you’re gonna end up on your ass again.”

“Yeah, but I won’t be wearing them things all day …”

In that moment Rick stepped in between of them, pushing Abraham back.

“Thanks for your help.” It didn’t sound genuine. “I got this.” His smile had long since vanished.

He turned around to Daryl, placed his hands on the archer’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. It didn’t take a genius to see that the older man would have preferred to fight a herd of walkers single-handedly over having to do _this._

“Rick, this is ridiculous, man. What am I – Rusty the steam train?”

“Ignore them. This is for Judith, okay?”

A frown appeared on Daryl’s face.

“It ain’t. Hopscotch the other day, that was for Jude. This here – this was Carl’s idea, but … This is different.” 

The smile hadn’t just vanished from Rick’s face by now. Carol wasn’t laughing anymore, either. 

_“I’m gonna toss that stupid casserole first thing back home”_ , she couldn’t help thinking. If she had made some french fries for a change or what the heck ever, none of this would have happened.

With a determined air on her face, she made her way over to Carl, who was watching the entire scenario with way too much fun, and pulled him aside.

“You know your father is a great man, don’t you?” 

He cast her a typical annoyed teenager _“Now what?”_ glance.

“Which one?” 

“Both of them, but I meant Daryl actually. You know damn well that things like this here are not easy for him, but he does whatever he can to make you kids happy and provide a somewhat normal life. He trusted you there when he made that bet.”

“He was drunk”, the boy sulked.

“And you took advantage of that”, she chided. “Don’t ruin this now. There is a thin line between fun and humiliation. Which one is it gonna be, Carl?” 

The boy looked over to Daryl and it was more than obvious that to him fun had nothing to do with this. Carl had taken this too far. 

“I’m sorry”, he murmured.

“No need to apologize to _me_.” She gave him a slap to the shoulder. “Come over to the BBQ ground later – we’re not gonna have _casserole_ today.” 

He laughed about that comment, while she walked back over to their group, stretching her arms and yawning audibly. 

“You know, folks, this is gonna take all day. I remember when Sophia learned how to skate. The first couple of days all she would do was fall and get back up. Her knees were black and blue, but she kept trying. Kept falling. Kept getting up. Over and over. Boring shit.”

Daryl turned his head and squinted his eyes as if to say _“That supposed ta be in any way encouraging, mother Teresa?”_

“You know”, Carol continued undeterred, “I think, I’m gonna head back. Anyone care to join me for a BBQ? There’s still lots of that deer left Daryl brought back the other day.”

She cast Denise as well as Maggie a meaningful glance, imploring them silently and the two women caught on instantly. 

“I think, you’re right”, Maggie said to Glenn’s surprise and disappointment. “We’re in.”

“No, we’re not”, he protested, “I wanna see this.”

“No, you do not.” He cast her a surprised look. “Your son’s hungry and needs a diaper change, and it’s _your_ turn.” 

Daryl caught a glimpse of Glenn’s desperate expression and for a short moment he felt even kind of blessed to be in these skates and not in Glenn’s shoes. Served him right. After all, if he hadn’t brought those torture devices back from a run, none of this would have happened.  
Out of the corners of his eyes, he noticed Denise whisper something into Tara’s ear. They exchanged a look, then Tara gave a curt nod, turned to Rosita and whispered something into her ear as well.  
Again Daryl squinted his eyes.

“They playing whisper down the lane now?” he grumbled to no one in particular. “All of ‘em gone nuts?”

Whatever the word was, it was spread quickly and resulted in the crowd clearing visibly. One or the other needed a little bit of persuasion like “ _Now_ , Abraham, or you’re gonna sleep on the couch as of now”, but after only few minutes the majority had turned wordlessly and were headed down the street. 

“We’re gonna have a BBQ, if you care to join us later”, Carol called over to them. Then she turned and left as well, along with the last remaining members of the group.  
Eugene’s voice asking “Do you have popcorn, too?” was the last thing they heard, before everybody was out of sight. 

“The hell was that?” Daryl asked, still staring down the street.

A smile spread over Rick’s face.

“I think Carol just cleared the street, so we have more room for skating”, he said gently.

“That was nice of her”, little Judith said enthusiastically, clapping her hands. 

“Yeah, that was nice of her”, Daryl agreed, before he leaned in and whispered in Rick’s ear: “But I still like Denise’s oat cakes better than her cookies.”

Rick’s smile widened, before he whispered back:

“Me too.” He pulled his hands back from Daryl’s shoulders and cautiously let go. “Stand still for a sec. I’m gonna get my skates.”

“Stand still …” Daryl muttered, giving a curt nod.

Rick hurried over the lawn to get his set of skates, while Judith stood next to Daryl, sending him the widest smile she had in her repertoire. 

“This is gonna be fun, da’y.” That said she gave him a reassuring pat on the back, watching in awe as da’y started rolling down the street with flailing arms, headed straight for Mr. and Mrs. Clutterbuck’s mailbox. 

“Riiiiiick!!” 

Rick dropped the skates he had just picked up and ran after Rusty the steam train, but Daryl had a clear headstart. Before the younger man even came close, he had wrapped himself around the mailbox, holding on for dear life.  
Mr. Clutterbuck appeared on his porch and cast him a questioning look.  
He was a friendly, elderly gentleman, who despite sporting an impressive white beard refused to be Santa Claus, much to Judith’s (and Eugene’s) disappointment. 

“Can I help you, young man?” he called out to Daryl.

“Nah, thanks. I was just … ya ain’t got any mail, by the way.” 

“Yeah, no shit, lad.” He waved the comment off and turned to head back inside, shaking his head to himself. “It’s Sunday. Ain’t no mail on Sundays.” 

Rick came to stand next to Daryl and grinned. 

“Oh good, I see you learned how to stop already.” 

“Yeah, works just peachy. All I gotta do now is take the fucking mailbox with me, so I can stop just anywhere.” 

Rick laughed out loud.

“I’m not so sure the Clutterbucks would appreciate that.”

“Just gonna borrow it. ‘s Sunday. Ain’t no fucking mail on Sundays, man. Don’t ya know anything?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Ol’ James don’t know the year or that the world’s gone ta hell, but he knows it’s Sunday?” 

“It’s _always_ Sunday to him, Daryl. Because there is …”

“ … no mail. Sure. Got it. Man, I wish ma world was that simple.”

“It is. We’re not getting any mail, either.” He chuckled.

“Glad ya having fun there. I ain’t worried about the mail. Don’t know how ta ever get off this fucking mailbox again.” 

“Just stay put this time. I get my skates and be right back.”

That said he headed back to their house, while Daryl rolled his eyes.

“Stay put. Gotta be kidding me.”

Judith appeared by his side, stopping easily on her skates without even touching the mailbox or anything else.

“Why did you just leave? Thought we were gonna do this together”, she pouted. 

She made some wild gestures, which had Daryl watch her nervously. The girl was clearly talking with her hands way more than Rick or Carl. He wondered who she was taking after. 

“I was just … checking … if the Clutterbucks had any mail.”

She cocked her head, which brought a smile to Daryl’s face.  
_“Guess yer Rick’s daughter after all.”_

“Could have told you there’s no mail. It’s Sunday.” 

_“This is Candid Camera”_ , Daryl thought, when Judith added: “What’s _Sunday_ anyway?” 

“’s when the sun shines, there ain’t no mail for the Clutterbucks, lots of friends come over ta have fun”, he fought to keep a straight face, “Carol finds a new reason to cook up a storm and yer dad shows me how ta survive on these things.” _“And”_ , he added silently, _“Jack Daniel’s may come over after dinner, I’m gonna have at least one more smoke – apocalypse and short supplies my ass – and yer daddy is so gonna make this up to me later.”_

The sound of inline skates approaching behind him, had Daryl crane his neck and watch Rick as he nimbly skated towards him and Judith.  
“I’m coming!” Rick called out to them, waving with a smile on his face, apparently truly enjoying himself. 

_“Not just yet, Grimes”_ , Daryl thought with an evil grin, _“but that may be included in the making up later.”_

Rick stopped beside them. “Okay, cavalry is here.” He positioned himself next to Daryl, facing him and held his arms out to him. “Let go.”

“No way.”

“Daryl, let go. I’ll hold you. – Trust me.”

“Yeah, look what happened last time I trusted a Grimes.”

Rick suppressed a smirk.

“You made that bet.”

“Wasn’t talking about Carl”, Daryl said with a meaningful side glance to Judith.

This time Rick did smirk. 

“You can’t hold on to the Clutterbucks’ mailbox all day.”

“Sure he can”, the old man’s voice sounded from the front door. “Let him have it. There’ll be no mail today. It’s Sunday.” 

Daryl gave an affirmative nod.

“See. Says I can have it.”

“You can’t hold on to that thing forever.”

“Yeah, why not?”

Rick leaned closer to him and whispered as quietly as only possible, so Judith couldn’t hear him: “Thought you were planning on holding on to another _thing_ later.” 

Daryl let go almost instantly, wrapping his arms around Rick’s middle and pressing close to him.

“Now that you mention it …”, he grinned.

“What did you say, daddy? You always say it’s not nice to whisper to someone when others are there.” 

“And you are absolutely right, sweetheart”, Rick replied, giving her little nose a gentle nudge with his index finger. “But we were just talking about …”

“Things.” Daryl cut in, suppressing a grin. 

“Right”, Rick confirmed, his eyes locked with Daryl, the archer’s face only inches away from his own. “Things.”

“Oh”, Judith said, nodding to herself, “like Thing One and Thing Two from the Cat in the Hat?” 

Rick almost choked on the laughter he was desperately trying to swallow, while Daryl let his head drop onto his shoulder to hide his face, muffling into Rick’s shirt: “Is yers Thing One or Thing Two?”

“Your pick”, Rick chuckled. “You’re older, so I guess, yours is Thing One.”

“Yer the leader, but fine with me.”

“Okay”, Rick straightened up and tried to compose himself, “Thing One and Thing Two got a date later, Judy, so we best try to teach Daryl how to skate now, so Carl’s happy.”

“What’s a date?” 

“Means they got _stuff_ to do”, Rick said, absolutely not inclined to take this conversation any further. “And right now _stuff_ is learning how to skate. Ready?” 

Judith was obviously satisfied with the answer.

“Ready.” 

“Ain’t ready”, Daryl remarked, “but let’s do this anyway.” 

Rick gently detached the archer’s arms from around his waist and placed them on his shoulders instead. 

“For starters, I’m just gonna roll backwards now and pull you along. Just slowly. Okay?” 

“Lemme process this. Yer just gonna roll without even lookin’ where ya goin’ and drag me along. _That_ yer plan?” 

The younger man chuckled.

“Basically, yes.”

“Who ever made ya the leader of anything? Good Lord.” 

Before Rick had a chance to reply, little Judith reached up her hands and pushed them against Daryl’s backside with a determined expression on her face.  
The archer flinched just slightly, before he cast a probing glance at his lover.

“That ain’t you, right?”

“What?”

“Someone just grabbed ma ass and I ‘s hopin’ ‘twas you.”

Rick looked around Daryl’s back at his daughter, his eyebrows rising.

“Whadda you doing?” he asked innocently, almost dreading her answer. Somehow he expected something like _“Why? You do that all the time, daddy.”_  
To his relief Judith however said: 

“I’m helping. I’m gonna hold da’y, so he doesn’t fall over backwards.” 

The two men locked eyes and simultaneously warm smiles spread over their faces.

“Sorry, Rick, but ‘m afraid, _this_ ‘s about the coolest thing anyone ever said ta me while grabbing ma ass.”  
He craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the little girl, who had strained lines on her face as though she was trying to hold a Sequoia upright single-handedly. 

“Munchkin, ya can let go. I ain’t falling.”

“But you might”, she said stubbornly.

“We ain’t even moving yet. ‘sides, I’m a li’l too heavy for ya ta hold.”

“A _little_ ”, Rick muttered, which earned him a flip of Daryl’s fingers to his ear. Still Rick continued mercilessly: “He’s right, sweetheart. Da’y’s had lots of Denise’s oat cakes lately.”

The older man shot him a scowl, but played along, sticking out his belly as far as only possible and dared turn a little, so she could see it.

“See.”

Judith started to giggle.

“You look like when Myra was having her baby. Are we gonna have a baby?” 

Again Rick made a sound as though he was choking, quickly faking a cough to cover an almost hysteric laugh, while Daryl sighed audibly.  
“Oh man, just fucking shoot me”, he muttered to Rick, who was trying to get a grip with fairly poor results. 

To their daughter Daryl remarked dryly: “Not if I can help it.” 

Judith was pouting. Not because she wasn’t getting a little brother or sister – she would have preferred a puppy anyway – but because she wasn’t allowed to help the way she wanted. 

“Tell ya what”, Daryl tried to smooth ruffled feelings, “yer dad asked ta help first, so we gonna let him have his turn and soon as he gets tired, yer gonna help. ‘kay?”

She crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip.

“But it takes sooooooooo long till he gets tired.”

A teasing smirk spread over Daryl’s face.

“Depends on what he’s doing …”

Rick’s sobered up instantly, while his mouth gaped open. Before he was able to reply though, Carl had gotten up from the spot on the lawn where he’d been sitting silently and unmoving till now, and walked up to them.

“I’ll skate a little with you, Jude, till it’s your turn. Okay?” 

The little girl was beaming at her big brother. 

“Yay!” 

With a delighted cheer she took off to get a good headstart, although Carl was not even wearing his skates yet.  
Daryl looked at the teenager, his expression hard to read, before he calmly said:  
“Thanks.”

Carl was squirming awkwardly for a moment, then he said:

“Can I talk ta ya for a sec?” 

Daryl shrugged. “Sure.”

The boy cast an insecure glance Rick’s way and then said: “In private? Ain’t gonna take long.”

The two men exchanged a silent look, than Rick gestured for Carl to come closer and take his place, so Daryl could hold on to his shoulder and wouldn’t end up around somebody’s mailbox again.  
Then he took off after Judith to challenge her to a little race.  
Daryl waited silently for a moment, while Carl took great interest in the tip of his shoes. When the boy didn’t say anything, the archer spoke instead.

“Gonna show me how the crap works here, since ‘twas yer idea?” 

Carl nodded silently, not daring to look the man in the eyes though. 

“Hold on”, he said almost inaudibly. Then he slowly started to walk, pulling the archer along. 

“That’s it?”

“No, but at least yer moving.”

He went a few yards down the street, then walked a curve and went back the opposite direction, picking up his pace.

“Ain’t easy”, Daryl commented.

“It will be. Ya just gotta find yer balance.”

“Same as you”, Daryl replied gently and Carl understood that the archer wasn’t talking about skating.

He stopped abruptly, which had Daryl almost fall over.

“Sorry.”

“No sweat. ‘m good.”

“No, I mean … I ain’t talking about _this_.” He pointed at the skates, before he dared look up into Daryl’s face. 

The shadow blue eyes rested on him calmly. “I know. Ain’t talking about _this_ , either:” 

Carl’s eyes became suspiciously blurry and the boy looked away quickly, starting to walk up the street once more.

“Can I call ya _da’y_ , too?” he asked suddenly.

Daryl cast him a surprised side glance, that was not met.

“What’s wrong with _Daryl_?” 

“Everybody calls ya that.”

The archer shrugged.

“’s ma name.” 

“Yeah, ‘s just … Judy and I, we ain’t _everybody_. Just thought, we should have a special name for ya. ‘cause … ‘cause …”

He broke off, apparentely at a loss for words – or the courage to say them out loud.

“ _Da’y_ ’s cool”, Daryl cut in softly, giving the boy a way out. 

And he meant it, too. _Da’y_ was cool. It was more than _Daryl_ , and less than _daddy_ , which was precisely what he was to Carl. More than just a friend or acquaintance or a total stranger, who all of them called him by his first name. But _dad_ or _daddy_ , that position was already filled and Daryl had no intention to make this a competition, a race for affection or significance. 

With a smile, Carl just gave a curt nod, but didn’t say any more. He didn’t have to. He already said everything Daryl had hoped to hear from him – and more. 

For another moment they just moved along the street side by side, Carl walking and Daryl, with one hand on his son’s shoulder, rolling alongside. But with each step further, the boy started to squirm more, until in the end he said:

“Sorry, I gotta go take a piss, urgently.”

“Woah, wait …”

“Can’t. Stay put, be right back.”

That said, he turned around on his heels and almost fled towards the house. Daryl looked after him with a You-gotta-be-kidding-me look. The next moment he felt his skates move. Backwards. Same way as before, only this time his butt was going to end up at the Clutterbucks’ mailbox.

_"Oh no, not again …"_

“Carl!!”

“Be right back!” the boy replied without even looking, and then disappeared into the house.

“Caaaaarl!!!”

The skates picked up in pace and Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable – his backside colliding either with said mailbox or the pavement.  
The next second, two arms around him from behind stopped him and held him firmly, the body pressed against his back so beautifully familiar that a smile appeared on the archer’s lips instantly. 

“That’s my line”, Rick whispered in his ear, making the smile on Daryl’s face even widen. 

They just stood like this for a moment, Rick nudging the side of Daryl’s head with his own, just holding him close. The archer leaned back into the embrace, enjoying the solid warmth in his back and the soothing reassurance, that his butt was safe for the time being.  
Finally the younger man kicked his right skate lightly to the heel of Daryl’s and said:

“Come on, let’s try this together now. Right foot forward. On three.”

“No fuss, Grimes. Just move.”

He felt Rick chuckle.

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Rick!”

Still chuckling, Rick pushed his foot into Daryl’s and moved both of them forward, while he still held on to his boyfriend from behind. Then he repeated the movement with the left foot. It didn’t work too well. They took a couple more awkwardly stumbled steps, which had very little to do with skating, while old Ethel Clutterbuck stood on her porch, watching them.  
She had her eyes run over Rick’s bowlegs down to his somewhat haphazardly moving feet and couldn’t help shaking her head.

“I bet that boy’s as highly gifted a dancer as you are, James”, she remarked sarcastically.

“Thank you, dear”, Mr. Clutterbuck answered, not catching on at all, which had her roll her eyes. 

She cast a last glance at the awkwardly stumbling couple in the street, whose performance was a mere insult to her eyes. 

“Who ever made him the leader of anything? Good Lord”, she muttered to herself before heading back inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Neither Rick, nor Daryl even realized they were being watched. The archer for his part was too busy trying to stay on his feet at all. Time and again he threatened to fall, while Rick kept bumping into him. At last, Daryl stopped abruptly, giving a frustrated snort.

“This ain’t working. Yer holdin’ on too tight. Can’t move … ” He froze, when he heard Rick chuckle behind his back. “ _Rick_ … Did ya bring yer gun or did Thing Two just come out ta play, man?” 

“Sorry, but your ass kept bumping into me…”

“I don’t fucking believe this”, Daryl started, when the sound of little skates approaching had both men freeze. 

Daryl cast a glance over his shoulder and saw Judith come skating towards them with eagerly flushed cheeks and a wide smile. 

“Is daddy tired yet, da’y?”

The archer’s features derailed visibly.

“I’m working on it, Jude”, he commented dryly, which had Rick chuckle again despite of himself.

“’kay”, the little girl answered. “I’m gonna help you now.”

The chuckle was replace by a very familiar sounding “Shit” behind Daryl’s back.  
For a second the two men locked eyes, then simultaneously they yelled:

“Caaaaaaarl!”

The teenager came stumbling out the front door a moment later, still in the process of closing his belt buckle. 

“Can’t I even take a piss in peace and …”

“Carl!!”

The boy raised his hands defensively.

“What?”

“Language. And come here, please. Quickly”, Rick called back.

“Language my ass, man. Heel, gordo!” Daryl added.

With a dark scowl Carl walked across the lawn and looked at Daryl with a frown. 

“Heel? I ain’t …”

“Take Judy for a few more rounds, please”, Rick cut in, his inflection urgent.

The way he was standing behind Daryl, one arm still wrapped around the older man’s middle, had Carl arch one eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” he asked innocently, while he had a hunch what this was all about.

“Nothing. I’m just teaching Daryl …”

“Ya wish”, the archer commented dryly.

“Shut up.”

A grin appeared on Carl’s face.

“Uh-huh. I _see_ the problem.”

“The hell you do”, Rick murmured in Carl’s direction, which had the grin on the boy’s lips even widen. 

“You’d be surprised.”

That said, he hurried toward his sister and caught her nimbly before she could reach the two men in distress, swinging her around with a laugh and then pushing her back down the street, running alongside.  
Rick frowned and looked down at himself.

“There’s no way he …”

“Rick.” 

“Huh?”

“Yer stabbing me with yer dick, ya jackass. It’s growin’ a bit tight in ma pants here, too, so back off already.”

Rick couldn’t help laughing.

“Can’t. If I let go of you, you may fall over and I swear, if you bend over I’m gonna come in my pants right here and now.” 

Daryl pulled a face.

“Great. The talent ta embarrass a Dixon to the bones obviously runs in the family.”

They stood like that for a while, watching their children play and laugh. Judith was having a ball racing against her brother, while Carl’s amusement was obviously fueled by the glance he was casting them every other moment. 

“Okay?” Rick asked at last, giving a deep sigh when he saw Daryl nod.

“Gonna take them fucking wheels off now.”

Rick’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Oh no, you don’t. After all _this_ , you’re not gonna give up.”

Daryl cast another scowl over his shoulder.

“Ain’t giving up. Just can’t make a bigger fool of maself then I already did.”

“You promised Judy, she was gonna get to help you when I got _tired_.”

“ _Are_ ya tired yet?”

“You have no idea.”

He nuzzled Daryl’s neck and placed a couple of teasing kisses along the older man’s jawline.

“Stop that”, the archer hissed, feeling Rick’s lips curve into a smile.

“Da’y, can I help you now?”

Judith came their direction again and Rick pulled back instantly. 

“Sure, munchkin”, Daryl answered with a sigh. 

Obviously he had died without even noticing and this was what his personal hell looked like. Endless humiliation till kingdom come.  
The little girl beamed at him and then reached for his hand to hold on tightly. 

“Just go alongside me and do what I do”, she said, which made it sound entirely easy.

“’kay”, Da’y answered. “Just make sure we stay close to the mailboxes on my side”, he added pessimistically. 

With a giggle Judith pulled him along and showed him move by move what she expected him to do. Half an hour later they were skating up and down the street together, the little girl cheering to her da’y for figuring this out so quickly and Daryl counting his blessings – like having no broken bones in his body just yet.  
Secretly he was making a mental list of things the _making up_ to him would definitely entail, and that list got longer by the minute. 

Rick showed up next to them, casting them a wide smile. 

“Having fun?” he asked teasingly and got an enthusiastic _“Yes!”_ back from his daughter.  
Daryl pointed his thumb her direction and shrugged.  
“Ya heard yer daughter.” It didn’t sound as enthusiastic as Judith, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away.

“You know”, Rick said to him softly, while he had his skates roll alongside Daryl, “you can admit that you’re having fun. I won’t tell and no one’s gonna call the cops.”

“Ya mean, that’s legal in this hicksville?”

Rick grinned.

“Last time I looked.” 

“Hey, Judy”, Carl appeared on Judith’s other side, “wanna go for another race?”

“Yay!!”

With that the two siblings picked up speed and took off down the road. 

“Thank God!” Daryl exclaimed almost instantly, stopping dead in his tracks. 

He went about taking off the inline skates and then let himself drop onto the lawn of their front yard, spreading his arms and legs with a content sigh.  
The sun on his face wasn’t as warm anymore. The afternoon had long since spread into evening and Daryl was craving a cold beer and a smoke … _and Rick_. Not necessarily in that order.  
Rick lay down next to him, looking up into the cloudless sky, that showed hues of red and orange now, before he reached out and got hold of his boyfriend’s hand. 

“Thanks”, he said softly.

“Welcome.”

The younger man cast him a glance from the side, raising his eyebrows.

“You didn’t even ask for what.”

“’s obvious – covering yer boner, what else?”

Rick burst out laughing and elbowed Daryl’s side. 

“Jackass.” 

“Pleasure. Dixon.” 

Rick laughed even louder, before he turned and propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at his partner. 

“You know for what, don’t you?” he asked softly, sobering down. 

Daryl looked up at him.

“Yeah. Like I said – welcome.”

For a moment longer, the younger man just looked him in the eyes lovingly, then he bent down and kissed him tenderly. Although they were in public and although the neighbors could see them – just because. The neighbors however couldn’t have cared less. Mr. Clutterbuck was busy checking the mailbox to see, if it was _still_ Sunday. 

Rick pulled back a little, after pecking Daryl’s lips one last time, and gently pushed one strand of the long bangs out of the archer’s face.

“Wanna go to that BBQ?” 

Daryl’s expression darkened instantly.

“No. Ain’t not in the mood ta see any more of our _friends_ today.” 

With a sad air Rick had his thumb caress Daryl’s cheek bone just once before pulling back. He didn’t reply to that, but the hurt in the older man’s voice was palpable. 

“Don’t let the ants bite ya”, a deep voice behind them said unexpectantly and with a groan, Daryl closed his eyes.

“Speaking of the devil”, he muttered to himself. The next moment he sat up abruptly, an angry blaze in his eyes.

“Looking for somethin’, Ronald? Like yer brains?”

“No, actually I was trying to find yer ba …”

Simultaneous rough shoves from either side had him fall quiet, while Sasha as well as Rosita cast Abraham an angry sideglance. He opened his mouth, but Sasha’s warningly raised finger and the single muttered word “couch” had him close it again quickly. 

Just when Rick was going to speak, he became aware of more people walking up their street, until a moment later their entire group, as well as Denise, Aaron and Eric were gathered in front of them. 

“Show’s over”, Daryl growled, about to get up to head back to the house.

“We came to apologize”, Maggie’s voice stopped him the same moment.

“That is correct”, Eugene cut in. “It would appear our previous behavior gave cause for complaint and thus …”

“Oh man”, Rosita elbowed his side and had him fall quiet with an indignant pout, while she turned to Daryl. “What he meant to say is, that we’ve been a couple of douchbags earlier. And we’re sorry about that.”

Affirmative nods and murmurs were heard throughout the gathered group, while Daryl silently looked from one to the next. For a moment it was deadly quiet, then Carol stepped forward with a large plate and extended it to the archer with a cautious smile.

“Brought you some food.” The smile widened. “And it’s not casserole.”

That had the ghost of a smile appear on Daryl’s face as well. 

“And it’s not oat cakes”, Denise tossed in.

“Or sorghum”, Eugene added, still pouting. “And no popcorn, either.”

This actually had Daryl grin. He had done that a lot these previous three years.  
For a while he had been wondering, if he even still knew how to smile or laugh, and he had had little reason to even try. But ever since the day he had found those precious four white mugs in the kitchen cabinets of this house, there hadn’t been a day without smiling or laughing.  
The mugs were sitting on the mantelpiece these days as a steady reminder that life was good and he had at least three reasons to smile.

And right here and now were thirteen more. _“Give or take”_ , he thought, casting Abraham a look.  
He accepted the plate and looked suspiciously at the towel Carol had covered the food with.

“Ain’t a pile of cookies, I hope, or ya’ll best never show yer faces in ma neighborhood again.” 

That triggered several laughs, while Rick peeked under the cover.

“No, no cookies. Looks like _one of them cows_. Jeez, who’s supposed to eat all that?” 

Carol returned the smile.

“If you need some help, we don’t have anything better to do right now.”

Daryl and Rick exchanged a look and this time it was Rick giving that tiny, barely visible nod that Daryl had sent him time and again. Another smile tugged at the corners of the archer’s mouth, when he returned it, before he turned to the eagerly waiting people.  
Not necessarily _eagerly_ waiting for his forgiveness, but for the food. 

“Sure”, he finally said, no more, again having one or the other of their friends chuckle.

The day Daryl would say more than absolutely necessary, would be the day the walkers came to their gate to apologize, too, for _behavior that gave cause for complaint._

Nonchalantly everybody just dropped onto the front lawn of the Grimes-Dixon residence and the plate was simply passed around for everybody to dig in.  
In the old days, people would have brought out chairs and tables, plates, silverware and napkins, but these weren’t the old days. They had all of them memories of being out on the road together. Of sitting on hot and overgrown pavements, a herd of walkers in their neck and nothing to eat than stray dogs or an occassional squirrel. And those memories ran deep. They had long since learned to dismiss all uncessarily kind of knick-knack and just _live_. In a way, these new times were so much easier in their simplicity.  
And there was so much less dishes to be done.  
Soon Mr. and Mrs. Clutterbuck were asked to join them and old James was delighted to see such a fine Sunday meal served, giving Ethel another reason to roll her eyes about _the old fool_ she had married a felt hundred years ago. But she said it with a loving smile. 

 

The stars were out and a full moon was rising over Alexandria, bathing the town and the small blue house in a silvery light.  
Rick came out of the house after having put Judith to bed, and joined Daryl on the front porch, where the archer was lounging in one of the rocking chairs, enjoying his second smoke of the day.  
He exhaled audibly, while he made a gesture out into the night at nothing in particular.

“If ‘em crickets start chirpin’ now, I’m gonna puke.

Rick couldn’t help laughing.

“You’re such a romantic, Dixon. Anyone ever told you that?”

“Hear that all the time.”

With a smile, Rick let himself drop into the other chair and stretched his legs.

“Still haven’t run out of smokes?”

Daryl kept looking out into the night and slowly shook his head.

“Been lucky last couple of runs. And if I ain’t anymore, I’m gonna roll up the pages of Carl’s stupid _Invincable_ comics and smoke ‘em. He ain’t reading ‘em anymore anyway.”

“Huh”, Rick grumbled lowly, “watchtower sentry …”

That actually had a grin flash over Daryl’s features, unseen to his boyfriend, who was still stunned about the fact that his son was … not reading comics anymore. 

“Wanna see something funny?” Daryl ask rhetorically, while he held the pack of cigarettes out to Rick, pointing at the cover.

It read in fat black letters on the front: _Smoking can shorten your life._

“No shit, huh?” Daryl remarked dryly before he added: “Maybe we best put up signs that read _‘Walkers can shorten yer life’._ ”

Rick cast him a sideglance and watched him silently for a moment.  
One had to be deaf and blind not to see, that Daryl’s words entailed no humor whatsoever. The archer’s inflection was sarcastic, tired, _afraid_. They all went through these stages, these mood swings. Being optimistic and even happy the one moment, only to have reality punch them in the guts the next and pour that bucket of fear and hopelessness over their heads.  
Rick knew, that Daryl may have the hardest time coping. Everyone here was afraid to lose what they held dear all over again, but most of them could at least look back on a lifetime of _having_ it at all. Being happy, having a family, having anything _at all_ , was entirely new to Daryl and he wasn’t ready to lose it again so quickyl; so the fear of fate picking him once more to mercilessly lash out at, was choking him time and again.

The next moment the younger man got up, reached for the archer’s hand and pulled him into his arms. He cupped his face with both hands and kissed him ardently, while Daryl responded instantly, wrapping his arms around Rick tightly and hungrily kissing him back. His tongue darted out almost instantly, licking across Rick’s lips shortly before demanding access, while Daryl’s hands were clutching the back of the younger man’s shirt, holding on for dear life. There was no gentleness to this. This wasn’t tender or loving – this was desperate.  
The need to breathe broke them apart after a while and panting heavily Daryl looked deep into Rick’s eyes, his pupils so dilated that his eyes almost looked black. He opened his mouth, as though he was going to say something, but not a word came out. There was an _urge_ in his look, emotions that were overwhelming him without him being able to handle them.  
He pressed his lips to Rick’s once more, deepening the kiss instantly. The younger man’s assumption was obviously right. It was one of those _stages_ again. Daryl was scared and he wasn’t ready to let go, to lose this and he was clearly a slave of his own feelings. Feelings he had never known before. 

“Daryl”, Rick muttered into the kiss, trying to pull back, only to have the archer hold him even tighter, if that was even possible. “Daryl!”

His warning inflection had the archer break the kiss finally and breathing laboredly he stood in front of his boyfriend like a drowned rat. 

“Sorry. Don’t know what …”

He made a couple of helpless, uncoordinated gestures, as though he didn’t know what to do with his hands, where to look, what to say. In the end, he grabbed the pack of smokes, whose dark prediction had triggered this, and tossed it forcefully out into the night. 

“Damn.”

Calmly Rick picked up the cigarette Daryl had dropped and held it quietly out to him.  
Then he just hugged him gently, running his hands soothingly over the other man’s back. For a second, the archer tensed, before leaning into the embrace.  
They just stood like that for a while, until Rick felt Daryl’s breathing calm down and the body in his arms relax. Placing a tender kiss to the side of his boyfriend’s head, Rick pulled back and looked him in the eyes.

“You alright?”

Daryl took one last drag of his smoke, that had almost entirely burned down by now, before stubbing it out with the tip of his shoe. He breathed in deep, while looking out into the night, and then said darkly:

“No.” Before Rick had a chance to reply, the archer brushed past him out into the front yard, cursing under his breath. “Can’t believe I tossed ma last fucking smokes out here. Gimme a hand, man.” 

Rick stared after him with wide eyes, shaking his head to himself. Even in the unlikely event that Daryl and he would grow old and gray together, he was absolutely convinced to never figure that man out completely. Daryl never failed to surprise him. Did his mood truly just swing like that or was he putting up pretence? 

“C’mon, I need them fucking smokes back.”

Ten minutes later, due to a flashlight Rick had gotten from the house, he held the pack out to Daryl, who almost snatched it from his hand.

“Knew I’s right ta love ya”, he blurted out, falling quiet with a stunned expression the next second. 

Even after all these years, there had been no I-love-you’s between them to this very day. They both knew how they felt for each other and they had _shown_ the other in every way possible, so to actually say the words had never been necessary. Especially Daryl had never been someone to wear his heart on his sleeve – until he was. 

Rick opted for ignoring the slip, although it had his heart skip a beat to hear those magical words from Daryl at least once. He opened the lid of the pack to peek inside.

“One? You only got one left? And that’s what we did the night hike for?” 

“’s important. Still gonna need that one – later.” A teasing sparkle came to his eyes. “Don’t think I forgot ya still got a lot of making up to do, Grimes.”

Rick cocked his head and looked at him calmly, a smile playing around his lips. Despite Daryl displaying a nonchalant behavior just now, Rick knew the previous incident was not forgotten – or overcome. There were still shadows in Daryl’s eyes, visible even in the silvery twilight. He could only try to have old wounds heal, but he couldn’t help the scars. 

“C’mere”.

He pulled Daryl into his arms and the older man let him. They didn’t hug a lot, Daryl still not being a man who displayed affection easily, but once in a while it was necessary, _essential_ – and right now it was precisely what Rick needed. 

“Still wanna get divorced?” the younger man asked softly after a moment of just holding on to each other.

“Can’t. We ain’t married.”

“Uh-huh. Wanna be able to get divorced?” 

Daryl pulled back and looked his boyfriend in the eyes, his face deadpan, which was driving Rick crazy at that moment, although he hardly knew it any other way. 

“Yer moving fast, Grimes,” he remarked after a moment.

“Fast? We’ve been a couple for three years now.”

“Took ya two before ta even figure out how ya felt and get me a fucking mug. And now ya think finding ma post-sex smoke entitles ya …”

“Daryl!” 

The archer locked eyes with him and just looked at him for a moment that felt like hours to Rick. Then, there it was – that hint of a nod, hard to miss by anyone, who didn’t know what to look for. To Rick it was visible like a beacon in the night and had his heart skip two beats this time, while the widest smile spread over his face.  
Daryl watched him calmly, then he glanced one last time at the pack in his hand before slipping it into his pocket. A second later he had gotten hold of Rick’s hand and pulled him across the lawn towards the street.

“Hey, hold up.” The wide smile had been replaced by a confused air. “Where are we …”

“Gonna wake Gabriel. Right now.” 

Rick stopped dead in his tracks and looked at his brandnew fiancé with wide eyes.

“Now? You wanna get married like _right now_?”

Daryl shrugged.

“Tonight’s as good a night as any. Ain’t the times to postpone things, Rick. Ya should know that. We was having plans at the prison, too. And Hershel’s farm. And then it all went up in flames. Ain’t gonna wait till that happens here.”

Rick swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. _Walkers can shorten yer life …_

“You’re right.” He pecked Daryl’s lips. “But don’t we need …”

“Stuff? And things?” the archer teased, which earned him a pinch.

“Yes. That. Gabriel’s gonna ask for witnesses, rings …”

Daryl cast a glance back at the house and shrugged. 

“We got ‘em.”


	5. Chapter 5

Rick closed the door to his and Daryl’s bedroom quietly behind him and cast a glance at the ring on his finger. After taking Lori’s wedding band off such a long time ago, he had never imagined, nor intended, to ever wear a ring there again.  
For a second he had to grin about the memory of how he had first met Daryl Dixon. It sure had been the furthest thing from his mind that the guy, who tossed a bunch of squirrels at his head, would one day end up being his husband. This new world sure had a couple of surprises in store. 

“Jude asleep again?” Daryl asked from where he was lying on the bed. 

Rick nodded, while he walked over to him with a smile.

“And I came up with a little task to keep Carl occupied, too, so we should have some peace and quiet now.”

“ _Peace and quiet_ ain’t exactly what I had in mind, _spouse_. Gosh, that sounds weird.”

“As long as it doesn’t _feel_ weird.” 

Rick kicked off his shoes and stretched out next to him. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Daryl.

“Was that how you wanted it? Just the two of us, Carl and Li’l Asskicker?” 

Daryl nodded. 

“Yeah, ‘twas perfect. Just seeing Gabriel’s dumb face was worth the entire thing. For a sec there I thought, he was gonna prepare for an exorcism, not a wedding.” 

Rick laughed at that.

“That was because of that ring of yours. Judy has quite a collection of rings by now and everybody going on a run brings back new ones for her, so why _that_ one?”

With a smile Daryl looked at the golden ring on his finger and the delicate engraved symbols around it.

“’cause I like it. One of them walkers out there had it on a chain ‘round his neck and I got if for Jude the other day. It’s the one ring, man. One ring to rule them all …” he recited darkly and started grinning. 

Rick shook his head with an amused sparkle in his eyes.

“Never thought you’d like Lord of the Rings.”

“What’s not to like? Lookin’ at Mordor makes this place look like Disneyland.” 

Rick bent down to him, sensing that the mood was about to turn once again, and looked him deep in the eyes.

“That’s because it is, Frodo”, he breathed into Daryl’s face, before kissing him tenderly. 

“Ya didn’t just compare me to a short, pointy-eared guy with big, hairy feet, didn’t ya?” Daryl said when he pulled back. “That list is a mile long by now.”

A frown appeared on Rick’s face.

“What list?”

“The stuff-and-things-Rick-is-gonna-do-ta-make-it-up-to-Daryl list.” 

“Now I’m curious. Shoot.”

“Just use yer imagination. Ya might figure it out on yer own.” 

The younger man suppressed a smirk and leaned down to kiss Daryl again, first gently, then more ardently, while his hand slowly and teasingly started opening the buttons of the older man’s shirt.  
Each time one of them was undone and the fabric gapped open further, his hand would slip underneath and draw teasing circles on Daryl’s skin, _accidentally_ running over his nipples and drawing soft moans from the archer. When the last button was opened he pushed the shirt off Daryl’s shoulders, grateful for the fact that there were never any sleeves on the older man’s shirts, so peeling him out of it was easily done without even ceasing to kiss him.  
Rick’s index finger drew a few gentle circles around Daryl’s belly button, before it slowly inched lower towards the waistband, while Rick started planting a volley of little kisses along Daryl’s jaw and down his neck.  
The archer entangled one hand in the unruly curls of his husband, while he tugged at the fabric of Rick’s shirt.

“Take it off.” 

The younger man straightened up a little and answered in a raspy voice.

“Want it off, you do it.”

The next moment the buttons of his shirt flew in all directions, as Daryl forcefully ripped it open and pushed it off Rick’s shoulders. For only a split second he saw the azure blue eyes being rolled in annoyance about one of the three shirts Rick possessed at all being destroyed by Daryl’s _gentle_ approach, but that sentiment didn’t last longer than a heartbeat.  
The archer’s strong arms wrapped around him suddenly and pulled him half on top of him, while he entangled his fingers in Rick’s hair and buried his face in the crook of his neck. He inhaled deeply, as though he meant to breathe the younger man in; let his tongue run a wet trail along Rick’s jaw and neck down to his collarbone, getting high on the other man’s scent and taste and the feel of his warm skin on his own.  
Rick had pushed one leg between Daryl’s and his knee was stroking against the other man’s groin, the sensation triggering a moan in the back of Daryl’s throat. 

“How am I doing with that list?” Rick asked in between two heavy breaths.

“Ya skipped one or two items”, Daryl choked out.

He moaned again, when Rick added a hand to his knee, having it run over Daryl’s semi-hard member, before he went for the button and zipper of the archer’s denim.  
The bulge in his own pants pressed against Daryl’s thigh and he rubbed against it with a sound close to a whimper, while he deepened his kiss hungrily once more. 

“Rick”, Daryl said between two breaths.

“Huh?” Rick just groaned, going about opening the archer’s pants.

“Hold it.”

The younger man looked up with a frustrated sound, a frown on his face.

“What? Why?”

“Yer just skipped another three items on that list.”

“Screw the fucking list.”

“Language, man. And this is _ma_ fucking list. Ya owe me.”

With a snort Rick rolled off him, his annoyance palpable.

“Ah, come on, just forget that list already. It’s our wedding night.”

“Right. ‘s special and ya promised. Kept ma promises, now ‘s yer turn.”

Rick turned his head and looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Didn’t promise a thing.”

“Ya did, not only an hour ago, jackass. Ya know, stand by me in good times and in bad - and there's definitely gonna be more bad than good ones -, be faithful – and ya better be –, lemme gut ma squirrels wherever I goddamn please and lemme have ma way with ya on our wedding night.” 

Rick’s eyes widened.

“Now wait a second, when the heck did I promise _that_?”

“Oh yeah, also humor me and not call me a liar on our wedding night.”

“Ah, come on, Daryl, Thing Two really needs some attention now.”

He almost sounded whiny.

“Thing two had too much caffeine today, huh? Wanted ta play right there in the middle of the fucking street and ma ass saved ya from having a lot of explaining ta do to our five-year-old.” 

“God, don’t talk about your ass right now, will ya?”

“Fact is, every Grimes, including Thing Two, had fun on ma account and I want ma fucking turn.” 

A smirk tugged at Rick’s lips, despite his throbbing dick.

“Thought you were having fun there violating the Clutterbucks’ mailbox.”

“Shut up”, Daryl sounded somewhat pissed off now. “Saw ya laughing there. Same as the other day when I hadda do hopscotch with Jude. Don’t think I didn’t see that.”

The younger man sobered up suddenly and cast his husband a regretful glance. 

“Sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have. – But I loved you for keeping your promises to the kids. Meant a lot to them. And me.”

Daryl’s anger subsided and he looked back at Rick with the ghost of a smile. _I loved you for keeping your promises._  
It was a fact, that they never thought it necessary to say _I love you_ to each other and they never had, until today. This just now was the second time and altough he didn’t need to hear those words, it felt wonderful hearing them nevertheless. Just like it had felt great saying them. Maybe once in a while it was just necessary to state the obvious.

Rick’s sigh ended his train of thought.

“Alright, whadda you want me to do?” 

It was Daryl propping himself up on one elbow this time, bring his face close to Rick’s while he let his hand run teasingly along the inside of Rick’s leg.

“Daryl!” he gasped. “Is coming in my pants part of that list?” 

The archer grinned.

“’Twasn’t yet, but sure sounds intriguing.”

“You ruined one of my shirts already. If my pants go, too, I’ll have to run about butt naked tomorrow.”

Daryl’s face was only inches away from Rick’s now.

“Hey! Making _me_ come in _ma_ pants sure ain’t on that list.”

His tongue flicked out to run a wet trail over Rick’s lips, which had the younger man squirm with another moan.

“Can’t we just postpone that list and have our _things_ do their _stuff_ first?” 

“No fucking way. I wasn’t kidding there when I ‘s telling Jude ya get tired depending on what ya was doing. Ya always fall asleep right after.”

The younger man opened his mouth to protest, but then just closed it again. Why even bother. Daryl was right and he knew it. He must have looked like a kid being caught with their hand in the cookie jar, because the archer leaned forward the next second and kissed him with the ghost of a smile.  
Then he said in a raspy voice:

“Strip.”

Rick had a smile of his own crawl onto his face and went about deepening the kiss, muttering in Daryl’s mouth:

“Now you’re talking.”.

The older man pulled back.

“No, not like that. A _real_ strip.” He saw Rick’s eyes widen, while he continued with a suppressed grin: “Put on that silly uniform ya got from Deanna, _officer_ , and then take it _off_ – slowly. Always wanted ta see a cop strip for me.“

Rick almost fell out of bed backwards when he sat up abruptly, staring at Daryl as though the archer had just grown a second head. 

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Funny, I pretty much said the same thing when I hadda do hopscotch and skating, while ya’ll had such a great time. Ma turn. Strip!”

“No way in hell.”

“And _that_ ’s ma line. What’s it gonna be – yer gonna keep yer promise or not?” 

The younger man froze and just looked at the archer for a moment. That hit home.

“Is this some kind of comeback? You had to do embarrassing stuff and I laughed, so now …”

“No.” Daryl looked genuinely indignant. “Ain’t doin’ that kind of childish crap, ya should know that. I want ya ta do this, ‘cause I got the fucking sexiest man in this walker infested world – and I wanna see this. Ain’t embarrassing – ‘s just me here, Rick.”

_“What do you mean_ just”, Rick couldn’t help thinking. _“You are about the only person in this_ walker infested world _, save for our kids, I never wanna see me do something totally ridiculous. And_ this …”

“Yer still with me there, officer?” Daryl wiggled his hand in front of Rick’s eyes. “Playing opossum ain’t gonna save ya.”

“Damn right. Wouldn’t dare play anything you let pass as food.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Ya won’t let me off the hook no matter what I say or do, right?” 

“Nope.”

_“What have I gotten myself into?”_ Rick thought with a sigh, while he got up and headed for the closet to don his uniform. 

Grinning to himself, Daryl took the shade off the bedside lamp, so there would be more light for Rick’s performance, while he pulled back into the shadow. Maybe it would be a little bit easier, if Rick wasn’t able to see his face.  
He knew what he was asking. Rick wasn’t self-concious – he had a gorgeous body and he knew it – but simply taking off one’s clothes was one thing, performing a striptease clearly another.

“Here goes nothing”, Rick muttered to himself, when he was done putting his uniform on.

He stood in front of Daryl as though he was facing a firing squad and for a moment the archer was undecided whether he felt pity or amusement.

“Where’s the hat, sheriff?” 

“You know damn well that Carl has it.” His inflection clearly had an annoyed tinge, which triggered a smile on Daryl’s side. 

Amusement, at this point, clearly amusement. No doubt the pity would come soon enough. 

“Excuses. Nothin’ but excuses”, he teased. “Sorry, but that means deductions in the B-grade. Ya better make that up in the lower departments.”

“I’m gonna kick you in the lower departments, if you don’t shut up”, Rick growled. 

The ex-sheriff had never felt this _exposed_ wearing a uniform. Until this very moment he had always worn it with what he hoped was diginity and pride. But now … Dignity and pride, what was that again? Especially dignity he must have accidentally left the cloakroom.

“C’mon, man, get started.”

Rick wasn’t able to really see Daryl’s face, because the light was blinding him and left the other man mostly in the shadows, but he _heard_ the grin in the archer’s voice.

“You got music?” he sighed.

Did he really just asked that?

“Nope, sorry. I asked Eugene for his tape recorder, but he wanted ta know what I needed it for. If I’d told him, he’d be at our window right now.”

Rick arched an eyebrow.

“This is a second floor window.”

“That ain’t stopping him. So ya has ta do this without music.” 

The younger man did hear music alright or at least some kind of ringing tone in his ears. Knells. That’s what it was. No doubt, this was his dignity being laid to rest.  
He tried to imagine some kind of music that would appear suitable, cursing under his breath that the only song that came to mind was _Killing me softly_ , before he reached for his tie to take it off.  
It had taken him a felt hour before to put it on – not because he was out of practice and forgot how to tie them, but because his fingers were somewhat sweaty by now.  
He pulled at the piece of fabric and felt a violent jerk to his neck. Darn, he must have done something wrong, because the blasted tie wouldn’t come undone, but even tightened each time he pulled. 

Daryl suppressed a chuckle on watching this.

“C’mon, man, this ain’t a rodeo. Stop roping and start stripping already.”

“I’m _trying_!”

Rick started pulling the tie over his head, where it first got stuck to his nose, then to his ears, before he wore it around his forehead, bearing a striking resemblance to Rambo. At least as far as the current bandeau and his facial expression were concerned.  
Daryl was almost peeing his pants in the desperate attempt to hold back the laughter that urged to erupt.  
When Rick had finally managed to take his tie off, he breathed in deep, chose to pretend the previous five minutes never happened and then started to whirl the uncooperative piece of clothing around his index finger, with what he hoped was a lascivious air.  
The movement strangly reminded Daryl of how Rick had done the same thing with the keys of that truck they had found on a run the other day. In comparison though, the key thing was definitely way higher on the sexy scale – at least he hadn’t hit those square in his face, unlike the tie just now. 

With a frustrated snort, Rick tossed it in Daryl’s direction, grateful not to be able to see the other man’s face, and decided to best go about improving the B-grade in _the lower departments_ immediately.  
Shirt. Thank God. There were only buttons, no knots, so chances of choking himself with it were clearly lower than before. And he totally intended to take his sweet time opening each and every one of those buttons. Not primarily to improve his performance, but due to the fact that he couldn’t afford to have another shirt ruined after what happened to the other one. 

He went about it the way he had planned. First button. Second button. Before he was done with the third, a pillow hit him square in the face and had him flinch.

“That flinch just now ‘s about the most movement I’ve seen here so far, dude. C’mon, I _know_ ya can do more with them hips and legs.”

Rick’s face distorted and once more _the lower departments_ were squirming uncomfortably. 

“And here Dale said torturing people wasn’t you. The man had no idea …”

“Rick.”

“Alright already. Don’t ‘Rick’ me here, will ya?”

He continued with the buttons, while he tried his best to move the mentioned hips and legs at the same time to the sound of more knells. A lot more. 

He didn’t delude himself about his performance in any way. Lori had politely pointed out to him more than once that the _annoying unevenness_ of the dancefloor were in fact her feet he kept stepping on, which had resulted in her opting to go to the movies with him on Friday nights or play cards with friends instead. Anything that required for him to just sit still and be off his feet.  
There were people born with incredible skills to hold their balance, feel the rhythm of the music and transform it into movement, move smoothly, graciously – _and quietly_ , Daryl would have added. But Rick was most certainly not one of those people.  
He wasn’t born with incredible dancing skills. He was born with incredible bowlegs and two left feet in addition to that. An elephant dancing ballet wasn’t too off a comparison as far as the level of grace was concerned.  
Music would have been helpful right now. Not because he may have been able to deliver a performance even slightly related to dancing, if there was music, but because it could have meant distraction. If everything failed, and it most certainly already did, he could have just started to sing along, hoping Daryl’s pain threshold would be reached quicker that way, and the archer would mercifully put an end to this by either dismissing the entire idea or shooting him. At this point, Rick didn’t even care which it would be. 

He thought he heard a chuckle from Daryl’s direction, but it could just as well be that the other man just burst out crying on realising that he got married to Pinocchio. 

Rick was finally done with the buttons and took off his shirt, tossing that too into Daryl’s direction, somehow hoping to at least hit him in the face with it. Dropping his pants was done way too quickly, he was aware of that, but he just wanted to get this over with before Thing Two was either going to explode or called it a day.  
He kicked the pants aside forcefully and stood in his boxers, pulling in another deep breath. If he had ever wondered, whether Daryl was still hiding some of his true colors – the _darker_ ones perhaps – _now_ he knew. 

The way he was standing there in nothing but his underwear, waiting for the inevitable whistle and command to go on already, Rick felt like he was giving the perfect imitation of a match – white, slim, and his head as red as a tomato. _“Hope, making_ this _my Halloween costume is not on that list, too”_ , he thought grimly. 

He tried a couple more of his awkward moves, teasingly hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, while he waited to finally wake up from this nightmare. 

Mrs. Clutterbuck would probably have a stroke watching him now. In her younger years, she had been a dancer and to this very day no one else in town was able to waltz or tango like she could. She used to say, she was going to marry Fred Astaire one day, regardless of the fact that the man had been roughly thirty years older than she was and had been married already.  
In the end, she had given her vows to James Clutterbuck, whose dancing abilities equaled Rick’s, which meant they were non-existent. But old James loved his Ethel with all his heart and that had been far more important in the long run.  
Rick strongly hoped, Daryl would adopt this way of thinking and not have this marriage annulled in roughly five minutes. 

Just when he was about to put an end to this fiasco and pull down the boxers in what he considered the grand finale, he heard a sound from the direction of the bed that had him freeze.

“Daryl?” 

There was no reply, save for the unmistakable sound of soft snoring. 

“No.” Rick closed the distance between him and the bed in few large steps and looked down at his husband, who apparantly was peacefully asleep. “No fucking way, dude. You’re not gonna do this to me and Thing Two.” 

He bent over the other man and looked at him closely. 

“This is a joke, right? You didn’t just fall asleep on me during the most embarrassing half hour of my entire life, did you?” No reply. “Daryl?” Still no reply. “Please?!” No doubt about it – Daryl went beddy-byes. 

Rick felt as though someone had just emptied a bucket of ice water over his head and this may have helped his problem with Thing Two considerably. In fact, for a moment there he considered doing just that to Daryl to wake him up and go about consummating this marriage already.  
The only thing he did in the end was pulling up the covers and gently tucking the other man in, as though he was putting one of his children to bed. And he did it with a smile. He quietly took Thing Two into the bathroom and got rid of the problem during a quick shower, before he returned to his and Daryl’s bedroom. 

_“Some wedding night”_ , he couldn’t help thinking. But he had to admit that Daryl sure managed to make this a special night in pretty much every respect. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to the archer and looked at him.  
The older man’s features were completely relaxed and there was a smile on his lips even while he was sleeping – obviously he was dreaming something nice. And then, maybe he had fallen asleep with that smile, because he had _seen_ something nice – like a husband, who loved him enough to make a complete spectacle of himself, attempting a striptease to humor him, although he was a complete klutz.  
When Rick’s feet turned cold he realized, that he must have sat there just watching Daryl sleep for an incredible long time. He turned the bedside lamp off, walked around the bed to his side and crawled under the covers to get some sleep, too.  
The first sunrays of this young Virginia morning were peeking over the horizon already and undoubtingly this was going to be no more than a rather short nap. Soon enough Judith would be bursting into their room, jump in bed with them and demand cuddling, breakfast, pigtails in her hair and someone to play with. Not necessarily in that order.  
Rick took another look at the man by his side, his heart swelling about two sizes and a smile of his own playing around his lips.  
He placed a tender kiss on Daryl’s temple, then spooned up behind him and gently pulled him close. Subconsciously Daryl snuggled up against the source of warmth in his back and resumed his peaceful slumber. A moment later they were both fast asleep. 

 

When Carol opened her front door that morning, she found an envelope sitting on her doormat that read _‘The group’_. She opened it with a surprised air on her face and found a single piece of paper inside. The text started in Carl’s somewhat messy handwriting, the first words – _We are happy to announce_ – crossed out again and replaced by:

_We think it’s cool that our dad and da’y got married last night. We’re a real family now. – Carl and Li’l Asskicker –_

In Rick’s neat, stylish handwriting it read underneath:

_We’re really happy and would like to celebrate a little bit with you guys. No big party, just a little get-together. So come on over tonight – we got a load of deer stew waiting. If you got anything you can spare, bring it along, please. Even if it’s casserole :-). See ya – Rick & Daryl Dixon _

_P.S. Carol, please, pass this on to our group, as well as Denise, Aaron and Eric. Pookie and I appreciate it. :-)_

 

Carol’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with one hand, while she reread the message several times. Her sight was slightly blurry and she blinked a few times to hold back tears, while at the same time she was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, barely able to refrain from laughing out loud.  
The next moment she jumped down the steps of the porch and started running. Finally! They all had to know about this, right now. It must have been the most wonderful news she had heard ever since Maggie announced she was pregnant.  
Technically Rick and Daryl being married didn’t make much of a difference. They had been a couple and living together for years now and they would have stayed together without a ring on their finger.  
But she knew this was one giant step for Daryl. The man, who had been alone almost all of his life, who barely trusted anyone when they first met and considered himself unworthy of anybody’s affection – he had finally found his place, confided in someone to such an extent that he had the courage for this kind of commitment. And he finally got all the love he deserved. She was so happy for him. 

 

That day Rick lost a bet to Daryl, which added at least one more item to the _things-Rick-needs-to-do-to-make-it-up-to-Daryl_ list. But Rick didn’t even mind that. He was happy and life was good, even though he had not only created a monster, as Daryl had accused him of the previous day, but obviously married one as well. 

When they had returned home after their small, secret ceremony the previous night, the archer had challenged him:  
“Bet ya, Carol’s gonna be the first ta ask. Even more so – she’s gonna be the _only_ one ta ask.”

Rick had humored him and accepted the bet. Already during the awkward performance, no one in their right mind could in all earnest refer to as striptease, he had come to the conclusion, that he’d made a mistake. _Big_ mistake. And several times today he had made a mental note, to never again take a bet when he was too happy – in other words, never again.  
Of course, Daryl won. He knew Carol better than anyone else and first chance she had to talk to Rick in private, she walked up to him and cast him a warm smile.

“I’m really happy for the two of you. Especially Daryl”, she said softly. 

His brow furrowed just slightly when he looked back at her and the look had her blush.

“Now, that came off wrong. It’s just, you and most of us all here, even I, we had kind of good lives before things went south, but Daryl …”

“I know, what you meant to say”, Rick cut in. “And I agree. If there’s anyone, who deserves happiness, it’s him.”

She nodded her agreement, taking another sip from her wine, before she said:

“I was wondering...”

_“Here we go”_ , Rick thought amused.

“ … why Dixon?” 

He opted for playing dumb and just cast her a questioning look.

“I know, it’s none of my business”, she continued. 

_“But you’re gonna ask anyhow”_ , Rick thought.

“But why did you choose Dixon as your family name? Daryl never appreciated being a Dixon, so I would have expected him to jump at the opportunity to change his name.”

“He did.” Rick sighed audibly. “It still runs deep – his low self-esteem. Even after all these years, he still thinks of himself as _just_ a Dixon. So, is there a better way to show him how much I value him, how much I love him, than by proudly bearing his name?” 

She had to think about that for a moment, but then she understood what he was trying to say. The next moment she placed a hearty kiss on his cheek.

“Daryl always knew better”, she said gently. “You _have_ honor. Always had.”

That said she walked away with a wide smile on her face to see, if there were cookies left. 

_“Got far more than just honor. I got Daryl Dixon”_ , Rick had thought with a smile of his own. 

He had spotted the archer sitting by himself on the top step of the porch with a smoke in his hand, watching the assembled crowd with a smile. They let him be. By now they all knew him well enough to know, that he would join them on his own accord if he felt like it. Right now he did not and to _disturb his circles_ , as good old Archimedes as well as Eugene would have put it, was lethal unless your name was Rick, Judith or Carl.  
Rick let himself drop next to him onto the step and nudged his shoulder.

“That your last smoke?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wasn’t that supposed to be a post-sex smoke?” he teased.

“Ain’t ma fault yer strip …”, he stopped and cast a sideglance at Rick, then swallowed whatever teasing remark he had meant to drop and placed a kiss to the other man’s cheek. “Thanks for trying”, he said instead.  
He took another deep drag and exhaled with visible delight.  
“Ya know, I just make this a pre-sex smoke now.”

He winked at him, when Rick cast him a sideglance of his own.

“Hope dies last”, the younger man remarked with a mock sigh. 

For a moment they sat quietly shoulder to shoulder, while Rick looked thoughtfully at the ring on his finger. He turned it a few times and cast a glance at Daryl’s before he said softly:  
“Pity, Judy didn’t have two matching rings in her collection.”

Daryl looked at their hands and then said determinedly:

“They do match.”

“No, they don’t.” Rick held his hand right next to Daryl’s, so he could compare them better. They were both golden and of the same breadth, but Rick’s was plain, while Daryl’s displayed Tolkien’s beautiful Elven letters around it.  
“See. They don’t look alike.”

“Since when does a pair have ta look or _be_ alike ta match?” 

With a surprised air Rick looked up and met Daryl’s shadow blue eyes, that were looking at him calmly. They sat like that for a very long moment, unmoving, silently, lost in the other one’s eyes. Then Rick reached for Daryl’s hand and held on tightly.

“You’re right. They match perfectly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ems4179, to whom this story is dedicated, gave me the idea with the skates and I developed this story around it. Hope you liked it and had as much fun (and giggles) as I had writing it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and each and every comment and kudos.


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